


Uletay (Fly away)

by GreyPigeon



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, Blow Jobs, Canon Het Relationship, Childhood Trauma, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Healing, Healing Sex, Het, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Medical Procedures, Mild Gore, Multi, Nudity, Past Abuse, Polyamory, Post-Season/Series 03, Psychological Trauma, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex, Swearing, Threesome - F/M/M, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:33:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 46,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23446312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyPigeon/pseuds/GreyPigeon
Summary: Events of the battle at Lindenfeld take a toll on Trevor and Sypha. Both lick their wounds, only wishing to come back home; they rescue a woman from the clutches of the Inquisition, and together they stumble on yet another horror on the doorstep, as Alucard hadn't exactly had it easy, himself. Together they will have to pick up the pieces and try to find some normalcy again, as happiness seems... too much to ask.
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya & Hector, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya & Sypha Belnades, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades
Comments: 55
Kudos: 74





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Castlevania, I am not making any money on this. I'm just fangirling over it. 
> 
> Author's Notes:  
> 1\. It's all because of the self-quarantine and binging on the show 4 times in a row, who of thou is without blame shalt throw the stone :)  
> 2\. I created one additional, original character. I wanted her to be slavian, as it was easy and comforting for me to write, so expect some language and folklore here and there;) To explain: if the action takes place in Wallachia 1477, and if we are to rely on the map pictured in the show itself, "Kingdom of Poland" at that time is quite vast, so I took some liberties and the colorful language, custom, dress or other folklore elements are going to be taken from the region that is geographically more than just Poland of today, but rather slavic in general.  
> 3\. See bottom of the page for explanations of words in parenthesis. Title means comes from the opera "Prince Igor" by Aleksandr Borodin. It inspired me to imagine a whole new world of acceptance and comfort to our favorite soft vampire.

**PART 1**

“Is this… what I think it is, or... ?”

Trevor kept staring at the entrance to the castle, his eyes squinted in effort as his sluggish, alcohol-infused brain supplied him with a morbid view. Just next to the huge doors, on both sides of the terrace atop the stairs, there were two stakes. Bloodied wood was sticking out obscenely from the mouths of the victims, a man and a woman, nothing more than rotting corpses now, dried in the sun, weathered by the wind, spreading horrible, putrid smell all over the place. Trevor couldn’t stop staring. He couldn't believe his eyes. His whole perception of it must have been wrong; it couldn’t, just couldn’t be what he was seeing.

“No. Delirium tremens. It can’t be.” He said somberly.

“You said that man was your friend.” 

There was a woman sitting on the driver’s seat next to Trevor. Her eyes were just as wide, just as terrified, at the grotesque sight in front of them.

“He is.” 

“No shit.” she said in a panicked voice. “No, Trevor, this is just insane. Let’s turn around before she wakes up. Just… let’s get out of here. Now.” 

“No.” Trevor swallowed thickly, shaking his head slowly and glancing briefly at Sypha, sleeping in the back of the wagon. “No. I have to know what happened.”

He tossed the reigns to the woman and jumped down ungracefully. “What are you going to do, huh? Just… knock at the front door? Trevor, _kurwa_ , just stop! Think!” the woman hissed at him. “What if he decides that he would much rather stake us three next to them motherfuckers than invite you to tea? You’re not alone here! I’m no good in a fight, and Sypha, she’s just… she’s in no shape for that!”

“Look, I don’t know! But it’s not like him, something must have happened!” Trevor began to walk towards the castle. “Take the cart back to the ruins of the estate. I’ll find you there,” he said. 

He didn’t need to say it twice. The woman departed immediately, urging the horses to a trot with a sharp hit with the leather reigns. She shot a couple of terrified glances around her; the forest was silent, which wasn’t unnatural for such an early hour, but in her mind it almost thickened with the very purpose of engulfing their wagon. The darkness didn’t really make it easier, every shadow and every crooked tree looked suspicious now; it was barely starting to dawn. The horses were agitated, difficult to get control over. Sensitive to magic, they must have felt unnerved by the mere vicinity of Dracula’s castle. The woman took a deeper breath; she had to control herself. The ominous structure was just a building, nothing else. Even if there was a spell on it, they never approached it close enough to be affected. We’re getting out of here, she thought, giving the horses another sharp rush, reaching with her right hand to the floor of the cart. She picked up a small axe and put it on her lap. 

She knew very well that if a vampire wanted to attack her and Sypha an axe would be absolutely useless. But the cold and heavy feeling on her lap was oddly comforting.

She could feel the hair on her nape rise in dread as goosebumps covered her skin. It was probably just the cold gust of wind, nothing more. She could feel eyes boring into her back, following her every movement. But it was probably only her imagination.

As the ruins of Belmont Estate loomed closer and the sun begun to rise, the shadows relented for a bit. The forest started to stir. Birds awoke with the cacophony of completely natural, unabashed chirping, and as the wind moved the branches, it brought in ordinary scents of herbs and grass and mold, but nothing else. The cart turned to enter a clearing in front of the charred carcass of the imposing structure of what had once been a mansion. 

The cold dread made way for a shred of hope, as the woman saw that there would be a suitable place among the ruins to make camp. The wagon bumped on the road, as the horses were directed towards what was left of the building and entered a more uneven ground. The sudden movement woke Sypha, who stirred behind the driver’s seat and elicited a faint moan out of her.

Finally the wagon stopped. The sun appeared in all of its golden glory, bathing the clearing with comforting, warm rays. 

The woman sighed with relief; somehow it was harder to imagine a vampire attacking them in the bright of day.

“Ksenia…?” Sypha moaned from the wagon, rising to a sitting position. “Are we there yet…?”

“Yes, darling, we have just arrived,” the woman said, climbing onto the wagon next to Sypha. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m fine,” she answered, rubbing her eyes. “Where’s Trevor?”

“Not far. Are you dizzy? Nauseous?”

“No,” Sypha answered. “I’m fine, Ksenia.”

“Can I see your leg first?” the woman asked, and Sypha nodded sleepily, pushing aside the blankets and cloaks to show the gash on her thigh, once bright red and bleeding, now reduced to just an abrasion. “Looks good. I think we can safely discard the bandage now. Just remember to keep it clean and dry.” 

“Why have we stopped here?” Sypha asked, looking out of the wagon. “Why not at the castle?” 

“Trevor went there to investigate a little,” Ksenia said, preparing a couple of packages to unpack. “He told me to bring the wagon here. He’ll be back in a minute.”

“So… Alucard didn’t come out to meet us…?” Sypha asked, disbelieving. “I… I better go check.” 

“Wait, Sypha. Let Trevor do this. Why won’t you…”

“No, I need to see Alucard,” Sypha said and brushed unruly hair out of her eyes. She grabbed her cloak and clambered out of the cart.

“Sypha, stop!” the woman called after her in that strange, sharp accent she had. “Stop! Look, just help me down first,” she mumbled. Sypha stopped in her tracks, came back, and grabbed the woman’s waist to provide her with extra stability as she was jumping from the wagon. The woman’s right foot was injured, wrapped heavily in rags to stiffen it. 

“Are you going to be ok?” Sypha asked, making sure the woman can stand. 

“Yes, thank you. Look, don’t go. I don’t think it wise to split up like that. Let’s wait for Trevor to come back. And you can help me with setting up the camp.” 

“But we don’t need to set the camp. We’ll be staying in the castle.” 

Ksenia’s look was weird. Sypha suddenly felt a sting of unease.

“What… what did you see there? What’s wrong with the castle?” She asked worriedly, trying to catch her eyes and dissect some truth. “Why are we making a camp?”

“I’m just not entirely sure it’s safe here,” Ksenia answered evasively.

Sypha made a small, impatient sound. “Look, Alucard is our friend. You really don’t need to be afraid of him. We wouldn’t bring you to a place we didn’t think was safe, not after what happened to you,” she explained. “You don’t need to to set up the camp. I’ll go check on Trevor, he has probably found Alucard already and... and I just _need_ to see him,” Sypha patted Ksenia’s shoulder fondly, threw her Speaker cloak around her and all but sprinted in the direction of Dracula’s fortress, deaf to any pleas. Ksenia shook her head and moaned in frustration; the gruesome sight that is going to greet her there will probably shatter her poor heart, and Ksenia did not look forward to nursing her back to health again after she loses consciousness and refuses to eat or speak for days straight. She kicked the back of the wagon in anger.

It probably was not the wisest thing to set the horses free or start unpacking. They may yet need the wagon to be ready to go. 

But ready to go where…?

*******

Trevor came back with Sypha hanging from his arm, in a state of immobilized shock fluctuating into sudden bouts of hyperactivity, where she wanted to run and search for Alucard calling him by his name, or go back to the castle and forcefully burst the doors open with explosive force to be able to investigate the interior. Trevor’s hands were shaking more than usual, and the first thing he did upon return was reaching for a bottle from the back of the wagon, sitting heavily in the middle of the fractured, tiled floor of the ruined building and spitting out the cork. 

“Home sweet home,” he muttered, taking a solid gulp. “Fuck my life.” 

Ksenia grimaced at this, but trying to hide the alcohol or dispose of it wouldn’t really work on Trevor, as she has already pre established. “Are we staying?” she asked the question that seemed of key importance. 

“Yes,” Sypha answered, turning to her. “We are not leaving until we see him. We are not leaving until we know what happened.” Ksenia nodded, acknowledging her agitation, but glanced at Trevor in need of a second opinion.

“We’re staying,” Trevor rasped. “We’ll make camp here.” 

His face was carefully blank, but she could see the aggravation in his eyes. They were clouded with worry and anger, and something else, something darker, something like his own personal demon as he swept a look around the rubble surrounding him. He gulped down a third of the bottle in one go and grit his teeth so hard that she could hear it.

Ksenia sighed heavily, bringing a hand to her forehead. Alright then. Camping. 

“I suggest we should sleep in there, it still has a roof and is secluded enough,” she said. “I’ll take care of the horses first. Is there any source of fresh water?

Trevor nodded.

“There is a stream behind the house, in the forest. You’ll see the path.” 

“Am I safe to go there, though?”

Trevor didn’t answer for a longer while. 

“You should be.” 

Ksenia sighed and stared at the blue sky above her, visible through the charred beams and metal rods, spreading from the blackened walls of the Belmont estate like ribs. She considered her options.

“Very well.” she said and settled for making camp. 

Neither Sypha, nor Trevor moved an inch as she started working. They sat far away from each other, not looking, not talking; each had their own lot to process. Their suffering was almost palpable in the air, so Ksenia just settled for taking care of the horses first, unable to watch them, quite upset herself. She took comfort in the presence of the two animals, and with some relief she noted that they were now completely unaffected; all of the effects that the dark castle had on them evaporated, and fond of being free of the rig, they trotted happily towards the greener grass of the meadow to nibble on it.

Sypha moved finally and stood up to gather some firewood. Her face was sullen, but at least she stopped panicking and moving around in frightened patterns of a cornered mouse. Ksenia welcomed the assistance and was glad that Sypha picked the task which required more walking. Her foot was throbbing with stinging, disturbing, hard to endure pain. 

Soon they conjured a small pile of fuel and a bonfire, set up a kettle over it and started to go through the provisions to determine if any dinner was in sight. It didn’t look grim, but it didn’t look great either. 

They needed water. 

“Look, Sypha,” Ksenia started. “I absolutely hate to leave you like this. But I need to take a better care of all… this,” she gestured to herself and Sypha immediately nodded, knowing that Ksenia had some injuries as well, which she has been treating on the road to the best of her ability. “And we need water, both to drink and for some soup later on. If we’re camping, we can just as well eat something proper and get some rest.”

“Maybe I should bring the water from the stream,” Sypha said quietly. “Your foot…”

“But I need to clean it up, dear. I’m gonna be a while.” Ksenia sighed, reaching for Sypha’s arms to give them a reassuring squeeze. “Tell me how you feel. Are you going to be alright?”

Sypha sighed and turned around to take a look at Trevor, who finished the bottle and curled on the parquet, asleep or dozing off. She gave Ksenia a brave nod, even though her eyes were full of defeat. 

“He’s gonna come to, you know.” Ksenia said. “I’ve seen it so often, it’s a bender. It’s gonna stop eventually. Once it does, we’re going to make sure that he never touches liquor again. The two of us.” 

Sypha just stood there, her arms dangling defenselessly at her sides. “I… I cannot get through to him,” she whispered. “He’s not listening. And I cannot find Alucard. I can’t do a single thing right.” 

“You can. You do. It’s going to be alright. Trevor is going to come to his senses. We are going to find your friend.” _But do we really want to find him, that’s the_ _question_. “Were you able to establish anything back there? Any of what happened?”

“Well…” Sypha shuddered. “There were cuts on their throats, identical, left by the same kind of tool. Probably a sword. It could have been the real cause of death, not the…. Trevor says they were put on stakes afterwards. Like a… like on display, as a warning sign not to approach. The castle is closed. We couldn’t get in. Maybe he is in there… we were calling. If he heard us, he didn’t want to come out” she recounted. 

“I see. Well, regardless of what actually killed them, it is obviously a warning sign.” Ksenia hesitated. “They are not that badly decomposed… They couldn’t have been there very long.”

“Trevor says the same. Something happened to Alucard, and it was not long ago.” Sypha wrapped her arms around herself, her shudder deepening. Ksenia reached out to pull her into a hug.

“Don’t think about it now, you’ll just make yourself go crazy. We don’t know what happened; it could be anything, maybe it was not your friend who spiked them in the first place. Maybe he is simply not here, maybe he had to run. Maybe all this happened in his absence, and… shit, what if there is another vampire in the castle?”

“I highly doubt that,” Sypha said seriously. “Alucard is powerful. I don’t see him losing to another easily. But if so...” 

Ksenia grimaced. “If so, we are safe in the daylight. And we’re going to have to infiltrate the castle at some point. But now just try to rest. We’re no good like this, travelling like madmen, no stops for eight days straight. And he needs to sober up,” Ksenia pointed a finger to the mess that used to be Trevor Belmont. “I’ll bring you some ice cold water which you can personally dump on that idiot. How’s that?” 

Sypha let out a huff of humorless laughter. 

“Sounds good.” 

“I’ll be right back, Sypha. It’s going to be alright, you’ll see.” 

Sypha just nodded and squeezed Ksenia’s hand briefly. She moved to add fuel to the fire, and Ksenia hobbled towards the small path she could see leading behind the Belmont Estate and into the woods.

*******

The feeling of icy cold water of the forest stream was soothing. At least that was working as planned.

Ksenia cursed under her breath. She was standing stark naked with one foot in the stream - the foot with massacred toes, which needed cleansing and tending to - and the other foot on the ground, still in a tall boot that Trevor stole for her. She was trying to clean up and tend to the wounds on her body in a more proper manner, removing the makeshift bandages, haste wrappings and other half-measures she had to apply on the road, and in that task the clothes were only a hindrance, so she simply got rid of them altogether. On the bank of the stream she had a hard lump of lye soap ready, laying on a more or less clean shawl, which meant to act like a towel. 

She was irritated beyond herself at the only thread she could find and an old fish hook, slightly more blunt than she would have wanted, which she was using as a needle. She was trying to stitch the gash on her left side, just above the hip bone, still open, bleeding and painfully ripe. She simply could not keep quiet through a painstaking and utterly unpleasant process of stitching herself up. 

“ _A niech cię cholera weźmie(1_ ),” She cursed again in that strange, foreign tongue, louder, as her fingers slipped and she hurt herself. “Just… fucking work, you useless thing.” Her hands were trembling and she grunted with effort, trying to shift her weight to a more comfortable position without slipping on the slick, polished pebbles in the stream.

The birds above her, in a green canopy of sparkling sun-drenched leaves, were singing and whistling in a symphony of spring. It was warm. At least she wasn’t uncomfortable spending so much time naked in the open air. She sighed and looked back down on the gash, irritated red and swollen, itchy beyond belief.

She wiped the blood that trickled down her buttock and thigh with a rag she was holding under her arm. She cursed again at the pain of tightening the stitches.

“ _Kurwa mać_.” She mumbled, making the last stitch and pulling the hemp thread through her flesh on both sides of the gash. “Ooooh. I just fucking… hate… this. And priests. I swear I’m never going to look at one without spitting, ever again.” 

She finished the stitch, tying it off; irritated at her shaking hands and the lack of composure, she threw her fish hook and thread away on a pile of things and braced her upper body on her thighs. She felt lightheaded and weak. After a while, she sighed, wiped angrily at the tears that spilled from the corner of her eye and turned slowly, trying not to put too much strain on her wounded side. She glanced over her shoulder to find her reflection in the shallow water; looking at her back she saw a net of scabbed criss-crossing marks, red welts and lacerations that were, in places, still seeping plasma and blood. She cursed, shaking her head, kicked off the boot and went into the stream fully, wincing at the cold, but knowing she has to clean herself up properly.

A big, white wolf approached warily through the bushes and stopped, unmoving, at the edge of the clearing.

“Oh, hello”, Ksenia said in a strained voice. “Look at you, a visitor. Where is your pack? Are you lost?”

She did not seem to be afraid of the creature eyeing her carefully, nor did she freeze in an anticipation of an attack. She sighed and skimmed her palm over a burn on her forehand, not really able to do anything about it beside sticking it in the cold water. She reached for the soap. 

“You’re just gonna stand there, huh?” she turned to the wolf. “Either run along or drink, I won’t do anything.” 

The wolf sit down. He did not even blink, still looking her straight in the eye.

“Audience, then.” She sighed. “Well, fuck.” Splashing the water when trying to get more comfortable and sit in the stream, she started hissing and snorting at how cold the water was. Even if it was doing wonders for her inflamed foot, the rest of the body did not appreciate to be frozen so and her skin immediately covered in goosebumps. She decided to be quicker about it all. She reached for her ankle and started palpating it. Swollen, strained, in need of proper setting and stiffening the foot.

“You... wanna know… what I… oh, _kurwa_ … What I think?” She asked the wolf behind her, manipulating the tender, aching foot. 

“I think the Priest of Sybim is a pig-fucker, shit eater and a nasty fat cockwart”, she hissed in the water, abandoning the ankle and lathering her arms quickly. “He likes altar boys. He would also eat everything that doesn’t run, that fat pig. And he has the most disgusting breath.” 

The wolf was listening passively. He lowered his muzzle a little, trying to catch her scent. She shifted in the water, having washed her upper body, trying to get a better look at the rest of her legs. Bruises, mostly. But she had to man up and set the foot. She shook her head.

“He wouldn’t be satisfied with just whipping me. He wouldn’t stop at the fucking Spanish boot, _kurwa jego jebana mać (2)_. No. He had to gather a fucking congregation of priests, that old, deaf prior even, to ‘assess for the Satan’s mark’ on me when I was strung on the rack. All my joints are just… oh, fuck it _hurts_ … just… useless,” she grunted, leaning down and pulling her ankle down to pop into place, and it did, with a dull sound mostly swallowed up by the water. The foot was now at a more normal angle, but the swelling was still substantial. 

“I hate the Spanish,” she mewled, lifting up her foot and looking closer at her bloody, mangled toes, which looked like one big, ragged wound. “Why would they even invent a device like that.” 

She splashed the foot back to the water. She sighed, looked back to spy for any slippery or potentially sharp stones, and leaned back slowly, allowing the flowing water to clean her back and the inflamed side she has just stitched. A hiss, a sigh and a curse escaped her.

“And that acolyte. The, you know, the fuckin’… that bald one.” She continued, having propped herself up on both elbows and allowing her head to drop back. “ Oh, that one was really _friendly_. Real, real friendly. Liked to play with fire, that blunt dick. Melted wax and the like. Romantically inclined, you see. What an absolute lad” she sighed, and it sounded more like a sob; as if the brave facade was leaving her, as if she was close to crying. But no more sounds came forth; she just sniffed quietly after a while of blank staring and turned her gaze at the wolf.

“You must have been drawn here by the scent of blood, weren’t you.” 

The animal shifted. As if uncertain whether to stay or run away, it stood up and just sniffed for more of her scent. Then it started coming closer, looking at the scattered things on the ground. Bloodied bandages.

“I am disturbing your stream, I know. I’m sorry,” the woman said quietly. “Please don’t be cross with me. I just wanted to be... clean. For once.”

The wolf threw his head to the side and started approaching, as if he decided upon something. He came really close. Almost to the bank of the stream. Ksenia frowned; it was a weird encounter from the beginning, but now the animal’s behaviour was plainly strange.   
She saw weird marks on the wolf’s fur. As if it were criss-crossing, thin, but widely spaced strips of bald skin, or maybe still pink wounds. Did it fall into snares or something? Ksenia wondered.

“Aren’t you a peculiar wolf,” she whispered. “Are you sure you are… a wolf?”

Ksenia slowly lifted a hand from where she held it beneath the water surface and steadily, gently moved it toward the animal. Her face was concerned, her eyes compassionate, but in that instant the wolf snapped at her angrily, turned away and in one fluid motion disappeared into the foliage. 

“Mhm,” she hummed to herself. She should tell Sypha about this. 

*******

“Alucaaaaard!” Sypha called, running through the sparse forest surrounding the Belmont estate. “Alucaaard! Please!”

She did realize the chances of finding him like that were slim to say the least. She was running chaotically, without any plan or pattern, just to cover some ground, just to spring into action, just to do *something*. It didn’t matter what, at this point.

She understood that in his wolf form he could, in theory, be a mile away by now. She realized that valuable time passed from the moment Alucard had shown himself to Ksenia and her getting back to them, limping back from the stream to the ruins of Belmont estate, where Trevor moved the rubble away from the middle of the only standing structure which would give any shelter and started a small fire. Sypha realized all that, and also other things. Her yelling like that - Alucard would hear her before she had any real chance to see him and run in the exactly opposite direction. If he did not want to talk, then he wouldn’t. She couldn’t force him, she could not reason with him. She realized that she’s just mechanically trying to tire herself, to force her body into stillness after a frantic, hysterical search mission which would bring no result. Sypha just *had* to go through the motions. 

“Alucard!” She tried one more time, her throat sore by now. “Alucard,” she complained, feeling her voice breaking. “Alucard, please. I just want to see you. I need to know you’re alright.”

He probably was not alright. His *not* being alright here was evident, but she did not *know* the extent of what is not right with her friend and it frustrated her to the core. Was he hurt? Physically? Was he in pain? Why did he decide to roam the forest in a wolf’ skin, why did he abandon the castle he said himself cannot stand empty? How long would it go on for? Could he even regain his human form? _What exactly happened?_

Sypha jumped over a log. She couldn’t stop, all the frantic thoughts spurred her on, forced her to go faster, to yell louder, to plead and call to him in desperation. 

Nothing. Just the forest. Regular forest, full of sounds, birds, musky in the humid air. 

She growled and turned left, deeper into the thicket. Now she couldn’t run anymore, her robes tangling in the branches, her hair catching on small twigs. She settled for a trek, calling Alucard every other while, trying to look around, to spot anything white, bending a lot to avoid bigger branches.

“Alucaaaaard!”

Sypha thought she heard something, and whipped around in place, trying to see if she was right. But no, nothing happened, it must have been a loose twig falling to the ground. She looked down, thigh deep in shrubs, and shook her head at her own stupidity. A wolf would not choose a path so thickly overgrown, she should return to the previous route. Trying to get out from the shrubs, which kept pulling at her Speaker robes with a nasty set of thorns all of a sudden, she finally stumbled in her efforts and earned a hit to the eye with one stubborn, flexible branch she pushed aside with too much fervor. Pain exploded in her face as she fell to the ground, and it was all that was needed to send her spiralling into an angry, exhausted and frustrated fit of crying. She wept at it all, the inability to locate her friend, who obviously was in anguish, the inability to get out of this fucking bush, even. She cried and cried, her small lithe body wracked with sobs, her small fist connecting with the ground in helpless, messy hits. She felt like throwing a fireball. She felt like screaming, like incinerating this whole forest, if only it would help her spot a white wolf somewhere. She felt like wreaking havoc and terror, or turning the whole structure of Dracula’s castle into a pile of stones, of rubbish, of nothing. 

It went on for a little while, Sypha feeling more and more lost in this powerful feeling of anger; but slowly her sobs quietened, leaving only a strong, terrible tremble at her shoulders. She went still on the ground, sniffling and trying to shut her eyes at all of the surroundings. Alucard was gone. Nowhere to be found. Hurting. Alone.

Why, oh why did they leave him then. 

It was all her idea. It was her who wanted to go on an adventure.

She mewled quietly, curling on the ground in a little ball of sadness.

“Adrian…” she cried. “Adrian. _Please_. Adrian.”

Nothing.

Sypha squeezed her eyes shut.

“I’m here”, a quiet voice responded. Sypha whipped her head up and saw Alucard leaning on a tree trunk, a little too far away from her, as if he was deliberately trying to put some distance between them. Relief flooded her mind first; he responded, he was here, Alucard, her friend. She called his name again, desperately trying to get to her feet and failing, the accursed thorny bushes still catching on her robes. With a scream of pure annoyance she conjured two flames from her hands and cut the offending bushes away from her legs, destroying a wide sweep of foliage as she did so. Alucard did not react. She got out of the thicket and was about to literally throw herself over him, but he raised a single finger in a gesture of warning, stopping her in her tracks.

He did not wish to be touched.

“Adrian”, she whispered, taking in his appearance. He did not look good. His clothes were filthy. Smears of mud and dirt staining his pants, his usually impeccable shirt. Hair matted, without their usual sheen, in a disarray of tangled strands down his back. His eyes were red and puffy. Lips chapped. He looked positively white, unhealthy, and thinner than she remembered. 

“We were looking everywhere for you,” she said quietly, staring. “We were worried sick.”

“Why are you here?” was the only response. 

Sypha blinked rapidly. “We told you we will be back…” she said quietly. Alucard did not move. “Adrian, we were always intending to come back, you know that. And… we decided… oh, we just wanted to be home again.”

The forest fell strangely silent after the vampire appeared. Alucard was silent himself. He didn’t say a word, he just kept looking at her from his spot, never letting her eyes avert, searching for something in her gaze. Sypha could tell something is definitely not right. But it was Alucard. Her friend. There was no reason why she should be wary of him. She shook her head and sighed, regaining her composure. She took a decisive step forward, but Alucard flinched and lifted his hand in a stopping gesture. 

“Sypha, do not come closer.” 

She could only stare back in shock. “Why?!” She asked, truly hurt. “Are you afraid of me, or are you saying it is me who should be afraid of you? Why cannot I even greet my friend? Why are you running around the forest as a wolf? The castle is empty and there are two stakes in front of it! We are worried, we came back after everything, everything, EVERYTHING went wrong and I cannot even hug my friend! What is going on?!” She yelled at him, waving her hands in the air. “Adrian, please!” 

Alucard stared back. Frankly, he didn’t expect an outburst like that. Something stirred in him, a feeble, fleeting urge to change the way it was playing out, to comfort her as he saw her tremble, but he decided otherwise and kept to his tree. He lowered his challenging gaze, though. 

“Adrian, talk to me.” Sypha said, in a calm voice this time. “Please, talk to me. I’m gonna stay here, if you want, but just… just _say something_.” 

Adrian sighed. It was Sypha. It was wrong to act like that with her. It was Sypha, after all. 

“What happened on the road?” Adrian asked, moving from his spot and coming a little bit closer. He was tired. Movement seemed like an unnecessary politeness, but he understood that Sypha expected some form of reaction. Her face fell. 

“It… couldn’t have gone more wrong,” she said quietly. She wanted to focus on him, but apparently that was not happening, so she would gladly open first if that made the dhampir reconsider, or at least prolong the conversation. She let her arms hung defenselessly down her sides. “For a while life was great, we had adventures, we were fighting the night creatures and helping the villagers. But then… we stumbled upon a small town. Lindenfeld. We… I, actually… because I talked Trevor into it… I…” she hesitated, her voice wavering. “I bit off much more than I could chew. Because of our failure all of the town is dead. All of the people. Everybody, just wiped out. And then this Judge…” Sypha’s hands suddenly started trembling, and as she lifted them to her face to wipe off the cold sweat, Alucard could see it clear as day that she is really, really upset. His hand twitched as if to reach out for her. 

“The Judge of Lindenfeld was a perverted, sick psychopath, he was… the true monster. Even worse than the one we fought. Worse, because he was human. And I will never… unsee it. I will never forget it. I’m… I’m… Oh, God. I just wanted to be somewhere safe. Somewhere good. And… Trevor has nightmares. He’s drinking again. I… I don’t know what to do. And you... “ she sobbed. Alucard felt a sting in his chest, like a pang of guilt. She’s gonna cry, he thought. 

“And you… and you… Alucard…” Sypha sobbed, covered her face with her hands and fell to her knees, crying. Heavy tremors wracked her small body as she wept, in terrible spasms, and Alucard just stood there like an idiot because he had never, ever seen Sypha cry before. This powerful magician who would not back off in the face of the greatest vampire overlord, who was tossing mountains of ice and conjuring walls of fire on a whim was now weeping like a hurt, scared, young girl that she was. 

Adrian was speechless.

He finally moved in his stupor, wiped his brow with a sigh and gathered all the remaining bits and pieces of his patience to force his body to act. It was Sypha. It was his friend. Dear, good Sypha, crying, expecting him to get together and *help* her.

Somehow this was a comforting thought. *He* certainly was hurting himself, and desperately wanted *them*, to care, to be here, to help, but once Alucard has seen Trevor and Sypha travelling through the land and approaching the castle, it was suddenly so unimaginably harder to accept their attention than he previously thought. So when it was Sypha who turned to him for help instead, he found it easier. 

He sat down next to her on the grass and hesitantly put a hand on top of her own. 

She stirred and lifted her teary face up from her knees. She looked very fragile, tired and spent, she looked as if in pain. Alucard wordlessly gripped her hand a bit tighter, his face still blank.

But his eyes were a shade warmer now. He cared.

Sypha sniffed loudly and bit her lower lip in distress.

“You don’t want us here. You don’t want us to be back.” She said finally. A statement, not a question.

Alucard sighed. “I *do* want you here.”

“Then why won’t you talk to us? You did not even show yourself.”

“Sypha…” he started, but trailed off. He wanted to bring up the disturbing notion of two dead bodies rotting on pikes in front of his door, and what they must think, and what commentary Trevor must have made, but somehow he couldn't. He wanted to blurt out: ‘you left me here’, but couldn’t bear to cause her any more anguish. Her face crumpled in another wave of tears anyway.

“They came to harm you, right? They attacked you,” Sypha sobbed.

Alucard did not know what to say. Oh, how foolish of him. She must have seen the wound on his wrist. She just added two and two.

“...yes.” he said with exertion. 

“We never should have left,” she whispered, lowering her face again. “We should have stayed with you. Longer. Or just simply stayed. It’s all my fault. It’s all me.. Trevor wanted to stay… He didn’t know what he wanted… It’s on me,” she mewled. 

Alucard’s heart skipped a beat when he heard the remark about Trevor, whose reaction he dreaded the most. Not because he was afraid of the confrontation itself; rather of the consequences. He dreaded the accusing look on his face, the words he would spit out at him, the retreating figure of a man whom he valued and considered a friend, but who would rather put him down than stay after seeing the two stakes. Alucard expected hatred, fear, or rage. What he saw instead was Sypha crying, desperately trying to search him out, inquiring about his wounds, regretting leaving him, admitting a mistake. And she just told him that Trevor originally preferred to stay with him, but got convinced not to. A part of him was screaming to not let himself be deceived again, to just leave, to push the humans away in self-preservation, which surely must be smarter, but his hands moved on their own accord. 

He grabbed Sypha’s wrists, pried them away from her face, and helped her stand. Steadying her gently, he let out a small sigh.

“Sypha, please. Stop crying. I cannot see you like that. I just can’t… I can’t take it. Please, Sypha.” 

She did her best to calm down, nodding, wiping away the tears which still kept flowing. She was so distraught, her face red and puffy, lips quivering, swollen. She gave him a sad, dispirited look.

“Sypha, I won’t lie to you. I am not alright. I cannot offer you a lot in terms of consolation. I wouldn’t know how.” He hung his head, trying to search for words. “But… if you wanted to come home…” 

“That’s all we wanted,” Sypha whispered, “home, and you. Us three together again. Safe.” 

It sounded like a child’s rhyme, almost. Unconscious list of nouns that constituted an idea about what they wanted, what they needed the most. Alucard clenched his teeth and swallowed hard; maybe he was lost in his own pain. Maybe he underestimated how his friends were affected, too - by unknown factors, unknown assailants. Maybe instead of running from them, he should consider finding out what has happened to them. Do what Sypha just did. 

“Come,” he said simply. “We should… join Trevor. You need to calm down, and you both need some sleep.”

He moved to turn around and go towards the castle, but Sypha did not budge; his outstretched hand was kept firmly in her small, warm, wet hands. He looked at her.

“Adrian, if you want us gone, just say so. We came with hope to be home again, but if you need space, if you feel bad with us here, if we…”

“I told you it’s not the case.”

“We don’t want to hurt you,” she stated bluntly. “We don't want our presence to be a burden. If we are just that, a burden, or _guests_ , then I…”

“Sypha, just come with me please. I’m exhausted.” 

She fell silent at this revelation. Her lips were pressed together in a thin, trembling line.

“I do want you to stay. Stay. It’s just… things happened, and…” he couldn’t bring himself to finish. 

“Just stay.” he said finally. 

Sypha wiped the tears away from her face and moved to level with him. They walked in silence. 

*******

The camp loomed before them. It was dark already and Sypha could notice a weak gleam of orange light coming from a fire, casting a warm glow around the remnants of the walls and blackened beams of the mansion; Trevor and Ksenia have done some work in terms of setting up a small space to sleep. They also took care of the horses, who were unstrung from the cart, walking lazily in some vicinity of the camp and nibbling on the fresh grass. The caravan they have travelled in was unloaded, acting like another wall and at least some sort of wind protection. The pleasant smell of a meal reached them. Ksenia must have been cooking something. They could see her moving around, mixing something in the kettle over the fire and reaching for various things from the wagon.

Alucard sighed. He dreaded the encounter to come. 

Soon he noticed that a big, huddled figure rose from the ground and started to stumble in their direction. He recognized the dirty fur collar of Belmont’s cloak. Sypha didn’t stop to talk with Trevor; she let go of Alucard’s hand and passed Trevor by, without so much as a glance in his direction. The man stopped in front of Alucard and swayed a little. 

Alucard took in his appearance. Trevor was barely standing, obviously drunk. The offending smell of digested alcohol hung wrapped around him like a cloud. He was absolutely filthy, not only with typical dust and dirt from the days of travelling, but also from old blood staining his clothes, which he didn’t even bother to change. He looked at Alucard, putting an effort to focus his eyes, swayed on his feet again.

“...You look like…” they both started at the same time. Alucard trailed off, and Trevor gave out a short, bark-like laugh, shaking his head. 

No further words. 

“I look like shit, I know,” Alucard offered finally. “You, on the other hand, smell like one. With an awful lot of moonshine.”

Trevor sighed, his head hung down. “Trouble sleeping,” he mumbled. “Pay no attention. Hey, I saw your house decor. Gotta say, it’s rather… On point,” he said, turning away from the dhampir and hobbling back towards the fire to sit ungracefully on the weathered bedroll. Alucard just stared. 

Sypha shook her head at him but did not comment, obviously too tired to care by now. She sat close to the fire too, encircling her knees with her hands and trying not to look at Belmont. 

“Alucard, this is Ksenia,” she said quietly, turning to introduce the woman they had saved to Adrian. “Ksenia, this is our friend, Adrian Tepes.” 

“We have met,” the woman said casually, leaning down to pour a portion of thick soup to a bowl, using a wooden ladle. She handed the bowl to the dhampir, looking him straight in the eye. “Though it’s nice to finally be able to greet each other properly.” She smiled. 

Alucard hesitated, but accepted the bowl. The soup smelled very nice. He realized he did not have a morsel of real food in his mouth for days. 

The woman reached for another bowl from the wagon, limping heavily and avoiding her bad foot. Alucard noticed she had stiffened the leg with torn strips of fabric and pieces of wood; yet regardless of obvious discomfort, she moved around efficiently, pouring another bowl and handing it to Sypha, who accepted it gratefully. She inhaled the scent with a small smile. 

“You’re amazing,” she said quietly. “How did you manage this?”

“I shot a pigeon,” Ksenia said simply, pointing towards a bow hanging on the side of the wagon. “Not much in terms of meat, but it should make a perfectly palatable soup. We had some root vegetables too and I found nettle in the forest. Even baby sorrel.”

“Nettle…?” Sypha muttered, a bit surprised. 

“Yes,” Ksenia prepared a third bowl. “It’s great for many things, tea, soup, medicine. Eat, my dear. You look like you need it.”

The third bowl went into the tight grip of Belmont, who was staring at the burning fire absentmindedly. Ksenia handed him a spoon non-too gently and in clear wording ordered him to eat. He looked like in a haze, but he listened to her and his hand started to move in a steady pattern to and from the bowl and into his mouth. Sypha shook her head, drowning her hurt look in the depths of her own meal. 

They were eating in silence for a couple of minutes. Alucard chanced a look at the poorly stiffened foot again, which did not go unnoticed; Ksenia covered her legs with a wide skirt promptly, and settled in with her bowl to eat. 

“So, the horses are tended to. Trevor unpacked the wagon. After we eat this, I suggest to find some rest for today,” Ksenia said quietly to Sypha, who was blowing air on her spoon. “Do we set up a watch for the night or…?”

“I don’t think we need it,” Sypha said. “Alucard? Should we set up a watch?”

Dhampir stirred. 

“...Nno,” he said quietly. “People do not come close to my castle.”

He expected a remark about how it might have something to do with the two bodies on display in front of the fortress, but nothing of the sort happened; neither from Ksenia, who focused on her bowl with an agreeing nod, nor from Trevor, who was unnaturally quiet. After a short moment of scrutiny Alucard came to the conclusion that he is simply asleep. 

“Is he sleeping?” he muttered quietly. That stirred the two women, Sypha letting out a small, tired gasp at the sight. Ksenia lifted a hand closer to Trevor’s face and snapped her fingers.

“Trevor. Eat your soup. Now,” she demanded, and he started lifting the spoon again to his mouth, as if torn from a trance or a stupor. Sypha sighed and moved to stand up, but Ksenia stopped her gently. “Eat yours first. Then you’ll help him. Think about yourself a little,” she said. 

Trevor’s spoon stopped in mid-air. He gave Alucard a long, intense, but mostly absent stare, as if he was looking over him rather than at him. Adrian suddenly felt very uncomfortable, seeing Trevor like this. 

“It’s good to see you,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I missed you, you vampire bastard.” 

Alucard realized that Belmont must be much more drunk than he previously suspected; and to say something like that with a straight face he must have been indeed full as a boot. Alucard felt cold dread creep up his spine. He shot a glance at Sypha and the other woman. Sypha didn’t say anything, just put down her mostly empty bowl and stood up to help Trevor with his meal. She took off his ridiculous coat for better access, and stroking his back and cooing gentle words made him turn to her and focus on supplying his body this little amount of nourishment it really needed. He hiccupped loudly and obediently started eating, not looking at Alucard anymore. 

The dhampir shot a shocked look at Ksenia. She shrugged and returned to her soup. 

They were silent. The night above them unfolded into a beautiful, starry sky; the chill crept up at them little by little, but the merciful fire kept it at bay, shedding warmth and light around the camp. Trevor finished the bowl and Sypha put it away. He leaned over her helplessly, pillowing his head on her chest, gathering her to himself possessively in a bear hug. “I love you,” he muttered incoherently, drooling a little. “I’m sorry, Sypha… I’m so sorry.” 

She sadly muttered that it doesn’t matter, that everything is fine, that he should catch some sleep now while he can. She nestled him on her lap, his big, empty palms grabbing mindlessly at her dirty blue robe. Reaching for his cloak, Sypha planted a small kiss on top of his head, and covered him tightly with the dark wool. Alucard felt like an intruder, like a nasty voyeur, seeing a moment which was obviously not meant for anyone to see, but nevertheless it was there, blatant and heart wrenching; he realized he is wearing a look of shock on his face, bordering on pity, and he quickly turned away, hoping no one noticed. Suddenly there was a hand next to his, taking a bowl from his hand, pouring a second serving into it and passing it to him again. Ksenia. 

Alucard didn’t even realize that he wolfed down his portion in no time. The soup was indeed tasty and he apparently needed it. Small wonder, provided that lately he has developed a habit of preparing food for himself, but not consuming any of it. Then, as he started to run around the forests surrounding the castle in the form of a wolf, his only nourishment has been raw meat and tepid, fear-infused blood of his small animal victims. 

He looked at the contents of his bowl. It smelled nice, smelled inviting. He sighed and accepted with a small thank you whispered under his breath. Ksenia nodded; her gaze lingered a second too long on Alucard’s wrist, where the injury from the magical silver cord was visible from under the white sleeve. Alucard pulled at it angrily and covered the wrist in an instant. She did not comment.

“If you don’t mind, I have to lay down,” Ksenia said to Sypha, who looked at her and nodded, never stopping to rock Trevor in his sleep like a child. “You should do the same, my dear.”

“I will, soon.” she whispered back, stroking Trevor’s filthy hair. 

“He will be alright. Just let him sleep. Tomorrow will be better.”

“I know, Ksenia. I know.”

The woman’s look was concerned, but she turned away to get a spare bedding from the back of the wagon. She dragged the bedroll closer to the wall, opposite to the fire, and made to take off her belt and the thick outer blouse. When she was pulling the fabric over her head, the bones and joints in her shoulders cracked in a cacophony of sounds. She winced, threw the blouse on the wagon, and knelt down on the bedroll. Reaching up to her head, she started untangling a piece of string from her hair, and after a minute or two a thick, heavily plaited length of hair fell down her nape and on her lap. She had an impressive braid of dark brown colour, a bit similar to Trevor’s. She massaged her scalp a little and tossed the braid behind her. Before wrapping herself in a blanket tightly she inspected the wound on her side, pushing the thin cotton shift up; the bandage was stained with blood, but she apparently decided to change it in the morning, because she let the shift fall down and over her skirt, she kicked off the too-big, muddy shoes and laid down. She curled herself into a foetal position and murmured a tired “goodnight” to everyone. 

Alucard was absentmindedly curling the wooden spoon in his fingers, watching all this with peripheral vision. Sypha’s eyelids began to droop. She moved gently to disentangle Trevor’s hands from her robes, planted a kiss on the top of his head and eased him down on the ground so that she could get up.

She prepared her bedroll close to where he was laying, and added some more fuel to the fire. The small hearth burst into life and greedily engulfed all of the dry branches and an offered log. 

“Are you going to sleep here with us?” Sypha asked quietly.

“I… am not sure,” Alucard muttered. In fact he did not want to go anywhere. Even if he felt uncomfortable seeing his friends in this state, even if he felt alien, out of place and left out, a mere thought of sleeping in the empty castle with nothing but ghosts of the past around him made his stomach revolt. Vision of a blood-stained bedroom flashed underneath his eyes and he knew full well he will not be coming back there any time soon. “May I stay?”

“Of course, Adrian. Take my bedroll, I’ll just settle next to Trevor.”

“He stinks.”

Sypha scoffed. “That he does,” she said. 

“Why are you tolerating this, Sypha?” Alucard asked on impulse. “He’s drunk like… like he’s really back into it.” 

“Don’t judge him, please. He’s in pain.” 

Alucard shook his head, rolled his eyes and threw the spoon away in disdain. “I understand the need to expiate, or the desire to dull the pain, but… his behaviour is not only harming him. It’s affecting you, Sypha. It makes me angry.” 

“I literally have *just* asked you not to judge him.” Sypha sighed.

Alucard found a longish stick in the grass and poked at the fire. He glanced over to the bedroll on his left; the strange woman was already sleeping, apparently really tired. He could tell that she’s asleep judging from the regularity of her breaths and her slower heartbeat, which to his vampire ears were easily detectable and plain as day. 

“Who is she, anyway?” Alucard asked.

Sypha was silent for a moment.

“On the road from Lindenfeld… “ she started, uncertain. “Well, we had to stop to replenish our supply. There was scarcely any more food, not for us, not for the horses. We were beat down and we needed medicine. So we stopped at a small town, it was called… Sybim, I believe.”

Alucard nodded. He heard that name from the woman before. 

“We were almost unable to get anything, as the streets were empty. Scarcely any merchants left. It was almost noon, so… it was strange. Apparently everyone was on the city square, where some…” her voice broke. “Where something of importance was taking place. It was an execution. A witch trial.”

Alucard was looking at the curled figure laying next to the wall. He suddenly understood where this story was going and he swallowed hard against a lump that rose in his throat.

“The stake?” He asked with an empty voice.

“Nnno,” Sypha muttered. Her face was white, unnaturally so in the fire glow. She looked like she was about to throw up. “Worse. It was just… oh, Alucard. It was just pure, unabashed cruelty. A show. For the mob to enjoy. She was beaten, she was whipped, she was... choked. They were… The hangman was about to tear at her breasts with hot pincers.” Sypha shuddered. “It was absolutely barbaric. Horrible. And those people were cheering, yelling, spitting… a brainless, soulless mass of… of evil.”

Alucard wanted to stand up and leave. He did not want to hear one more word. This story made him remember things he shoved down, deep down into himself, in order not to go mad. His heart clenched and an iron clamp settled around his stomach. But Sypha did not say anything else. She just gave out a strained sigh and returned to stroking Trevor’s hair.

Finally, after an enormously long pause, Alucard made a sound. 

“So you two rescued her.” 

“It was mostly Trevor,” Sypha said, studying the face of the man. “He just… snapped. He snapped. One second he was standing next to me, and the next he was up there, on the gallows, swinging the Morning Star and… and suddenly heads started flying off, and the mayor was there, with his guts filling his hands. And once I saw two men swinging at Trevor, I jumped on there too, and, well… I incinerated a couple of them. We took her with us… and we ran.” 

Alucard was slowly digesting the information. He looked at Sypha; she looked exhausted. Trevor was asleep with his brow furrowed and stormy; Alucard could remember him being always vigilant and a light sleeper, but this time he was completely unmoving, without so much as a twitch. 

He glanced at the woman sleeping wrapped tightly in the brown blanket. He could see a thick, brown cord of her long braid scattered on the ground sloppily.

“What’s her name again?”

“Ksienija,” Sypha said. “Ksenia. She’s not from around here.”

“I can tell. Sypha, listen… you sway on your feet. It’s time to sleep. There will be plenty of time to talk tomorrow.” 

She nodded and made a move to lift the bedroll from the ground, but Alucard shook his head and in a spare, effortless motion morphed into the wolf. The animal made two circles in the spot where Alucard was previously sitting and laid down, pillowing it’s shapely head on it’s long front paws. Sypha smiled weakly, watching him for a moment; then she pulled the blanket over herself and cuddled to Trevor’s back, her small body all but hidden behind the man’s powerful frame. 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

(1) polish for : "let the disease take him", "would he die of cholera".  
(2) polish for "his mother is a woman of questionable repute".


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This time around we'll delve a little into the healing part, though there will be much more of it in the future chapter. Just note that I am no trained doctor and I'm just using common sense and basic research to adjust the reality of medical procedures into this fantasy world, so we're basing on medieval/magical here with some liberties. After all, Dracula had machinery and electricity in the castle, why wouldn't he be able to invent a syringe, right?  
> Enjoy and please leave me a comment!

**PART 2**

The sun has barely started to rise, making the line of the horizon pink and light, the peaceful, but chilly night giving way to the warmth and radiance, when Ksenia stirred in her bedroll and started to yawn. She needed a couple of minutes to force her limbs to unfurl and stretch, as after a night on the cold ground she was quite stiff and sore. The bonfire was radiating just a little bit of heat, almost dead now, but still glowing red under the initial layer of ash and charcoal. 

Making a deep sigh and rubbing at her puffy eyes, she made to rise. She sat up on the bedroll, scratched her scalp loudly; she was still a little disoriented and felt tired. Reaching for a stick to poke at the fire, she suddenly noticed two golden eyes fixed at her movements, pinning her to the spot she was sitting in with a mute, but obvious threat. 

The wolf. Alucard. 

“What?” she asked quietly. “What did I do?”

The wolf lifted its head, still looking straight at her. She grimaced in negligence and tried to stand up, but a low, quiet, long growl that came from the creature made her abandon the idea. The wolf was watching her and was clearly unhappy about her moving around on her own.

“Alright, alright... No means no,” she muttered finally, laying back down with a sigh. She shook her head against the bedroll and stared into the sky. She could keep still only a while, though; her hands crept up to the wound on her side and gently palpated the area. _I’ll have to change the dressing,_ she thought, discovering some swelling, hotness and unpleasant tenderness under her fingers.

“That wound right there, and a collection of others, is precisely the reason why you should stay down.” She heard a voice somewhere above her and to the right. Moving her head in this direction she saw a man sitting in the spot previously occupied by the wolf. Alucard. Adrian Tepes, Sypha has said. 

“Oh good morning to you too, kind Sir,” Ksenia answered, pulling the dressing away from her side and wincing in pain. “Thanks for your concern, but I will be fine. I meant to prepare breakfast. Perhaps since you’re awake now and suddenly bipedal, you could rekindle the fire, please?”

Sitting up and straightening, she reached out for a bucket of water and a small piece of cloth sticking out of it. She wrenched the excess of the water and proceeded to clean up her side, which was smeared with a green paste of some sort. Alucard moved to add more branches and dry grass to the hearth. 

“You know that if you keep putting pressure on that leg it will never heal properly. And I can smell the beginning of infection forming in this pitifully stitched wound from where I sit. You have a fever, don’t you?”

Ksenia brought the back of her hand to her forehead.

“Maybe a little, yes. You can smell all that?” She asked, glancing at him.

“Yes.”

“Useful,” she muttered, reached for a small parcel next to her bedroll and rose. She stumbled and had to use a wall to prop herself up, but once she was standing her movements became more determined. She opened the parcel, took out a couple of green leaves and put it in her mouth to chew; then she turned around with her back to the dhampir and proceeded to take off the cotton shift altogether, as it was simply on the way. Her arms and shoulders creaked and popped again with the series of unpleasant, surprisingly loud sounds; Alucard winced. 

Ksenia took out the green pulp from her mouth and smeared it all over her nasty stitching from yesterday. Then she put a new, clean dressing on top and started to secure it, wrapping a long strip of linen around her middle. 

“Can you stop staring, by any chance?” She asked, her voice not really irritated, just inquisitive. She didn’t make any attempt to cover herself nor did she show any shame; Alucard suspected it would appear to her as a simple waste of time, prompt and determined about her tasks as she was. She secured the bandage and bent to lift the shift from the ground. 

“All I meant to say is you shouldn’t overexert yourself. Have Belmont prepare the food, for example.” 

Ksenia glanced back over her shoulder and grimaced. She let the shift into her skirt, re-tied the strings around her waist tighter, and made to put back on her outer shirt and the belt. She put one shoe on, leaving the bad foot as it was, and grabbed a sturdy branch which she was using as a walking stick since yesterday. Only when she felt ready and collected, she turned to face Alucard fully and placed an intentional look in his eyes. 

“Trevor is not supposed to move around much.” She said simply, ignoring the dhampir’s irritation. “He still has not recovered from a major concussion, a gash on his shoulder is big enough to see everything he has inside there, and I believe he might have a couple of cracked vertebrae. Definitely some broken ribs. He is in pain and he shouldn’t move. Sypha is exhausted and faint, something to do with the amount of energy she must have used when raining fire from the sky. And bless her sweet soul, she’s absolutely irreplaceable when there’s a need for throwing fireballs, but she just cannot wrap her head around laundry, for example. So it’s a space for me to step in and be useful. Now get out of my hair and for God’s sake stop _growling_ at me. I didn’t do anything to you.” 

Alucard kept a straight and impassive face through the tirade, even if he disliked being spoken to in such a tone; he reluctantly peeled his piercing eyes from the woman and glanced towards Trevor and Sypha. In his sleep Belmont rolled on his back, but was still sleeping deadly still. If anything, his expression only darkened. His brow was continuously furrowed, and his jaws clenched shut. Sypha was cuddled to his side, her small hands gripping Trevor’s cloak. She looked absolutely lost and minute. 

Ksenia proceeded to wash the kettle from the leftovers of yesterday’s soup to have it ready for heating up some water, but Alucard stopped her decisively. 

“Ksienija, is it?” he asked, standing up. She nodded. “There is food and tea in the castle. I have a proper kitchen and I’m sure we will find something decent in the pantry to share over breakfast. I have a variety of medicines, too, in the lab. Instead of camping, which is not doing much in terms of help and rest, we should relocate there and find them proper lodging.”

Ksenia sighed quietly, looking down at the sleeping couple. 

“If that is an option, then I think yes.” 

“Will you bring them to the castle when they wake?” Alucard asked, taking his leave. 

“I will. Before you go, can I ask you a favour? I wouldn’t ask if I didn't have to.” 

Alucard nodded.

“Will you help me bring more water from the stream? There is a big pile of laundry I intended to do today, but my leg is, indeed, a hindrance.” 

All she got was a long, criticizing stare.

“There is hot water distributed around the castle’s many baths with means of pipes. You don’t need to bring any from the stream. If you wish to do the laundry, you can do so in there.” 

He waited politely for her answer, and she thanked him shortly. He turned around then and left, to slowly make it towards his father’s castle, and figure out exactly how painful it will be to explain all of the mess, the abandonment, the dilapidation and two grisly stakes in front of his main door.

*******

The main hall was ghastly dark and empty.

The entrance was still full of debris, shattered furniture, metal pieces of armor, bones even. Everything was covered in a thin layer of dust. It was evident that Alucard did not want to or didn’t even bother with tidying, or indeed making the place livable. Not even in the scarce rooms he was using, like the corridor to the ground floor facilities, the kitchens, the baths. The chandelier was broken, sprinkling the corridor with myriads of glass pieces. The decorative armors toppled down, scattered. The door to the kitchens broken, hanging on one hinge. the stairs, woodwork and handrails in splinters. The place looked abandoned and dead. 

Sitting in the quiet and neglected kitchen, Trevor was staring at the two small rag dolls sitting on the mantelpiece with authentic dread gripping at his guts. Alucard must have made them. He made dolls of him and Sypha, because he couldn’t stand to be alone that badly. The notion of graceful, ethereal Alucard, always so collected, always so stoic and logical, falling to pieces over two handmade doll representations of the only friends he had was truly, deeply disturbing. 

The kitchen back door creaked open and Alucard entered, holding a basket of vegetables and greens he had collected from the garden. Sypha jumped to help him, and inquired about his vegetable patch. Alucard answered calmly, pretending he didn’t see what Trevor was looking at. 

“It’s nothing much, really. Just basic plants, easy to grow. There was a suitable book in the library, and I was able to produce some tools as well. First tries were unsuccessful, the seeds would not sprout or the plants would die because of weeds or insufficient watering, but I got it finally,” he explained. 

Ksenia was visibly fascinated with the big two-level stove, in which one could easily bake a couple of loafs of bread; she was staring at all sorts of kitchen equipment hanging on the walls and at the sink, with separate water supply running from the copper tap. She only knew something like this from the exaggerated tales of how the kings live in their castles, and even then she would not hear about pipes which distributed water and central heating and engines that were making all of this possible. She went completely silent in awe, visibly pleased that she was asked to make tea and use all these wonders. 

A cup of hot, aromatic amber liquid was placed before Trevor. Ksenia added a spoonful of sugar and encouraged him to drink something. Alucard brought the prepared breakfast to the table and invited all of them to sit. It wasn’t much, just some vegetables, game, couple of quail eggs and hastily prepared flatbread, but it was fresh and it looked inviting. Sypha put a bit of everything on her plate, Ksenia followed the example. Trevor had a hard time fighting with the nausea, so he settled for what he knew will stay down. Alucard didn’t even bother taking a plate.

“After breakfast I’ll prepare rooms for you,” he said quietly. “Or would you prefer if it was just one room?” he asked, sipping his tea slowly. His hands were white as paper and trembling slightly.

“Don’t go into trouble over us, Alucard, one room will be perfectly alright,” Sypha said. “We can share. Just show us somewhere with two beds and we’ll do the rest,” she said, reaching for another flatbread. 

Alucard gave her a questioning look.

“One for me and Trevor, one for Ksenia,” she clarified, catching his expression. He lifted his eyebrows and nodded, but the look that he shot towards the newcomer was perfectly clear. _You are not welcome_. To his surprise, Ksenia gave him a very natural smile, bearing no ill will.

“Sypha, I don’t think I want to stay here in the castle. I would prefer to return to the campsite,” she said, and Sypha immediately started protesting, but Ksenia calmly produced a handful of valid arguments against it, like taking care of the horses, who would panic when brought too close to the magical structure of Dracula’s fortress, or the need to explore more of the surroundings. She quickly changed the subject, asking Sypha to lend her a hand in sorting through the clothing and bedding and all of the items that needed washing. Even if a bit alarmed and suspicious, Sypha agreed; clearly uncomfortable with the idea of one of them sleeping on the ground, while the rest would share a featherdown quilt, she tried to breach the subject once again but Ksenia turned it around like it was planned all along.

“...you cannot sleep on the cold ground all the time, what about your injuries? And your joints? I think…”

“Speaking of joints, thank you Sypha for reminding me. I think we should take a look at Trevor’s shoulder today. It’s time to see how it is healing. A warm bath would do some good there, as well,” Ksenia pointed out and rose from her seat. “Alright, it’s late, I’ll hobble away to gather all the dirty clothing, and you will come to help me once you’re finished here, right?” 

Ksenia put a warm hand on Sypha’s shoulder, grabbed her walking stick and turned to the door. She glanced at Alucard and bowed her head to him politely. 

“Thank you for the breakfast. It was kind of you.” and with that she was gone, with only the sound of her walking stick in the distance marking her departure. Sypha sighed, obviously unsettled. 

Silence befell the breakfast table. Trevor was still looking at the two, sad dolls on the mantelpiece. 

“I should probably take a look at that shoulder” Aluard offered, looking at Belmont.

“Yeah, well... “ Trevor smiled sadly. “I would appreciate it.” 

So it was bad. Alucard suspected that if it was a matter of minor importance, Trevor would never agree to anyone tending to his wounds, when he had Sypha around to fuss and fret over him. But since he didn’t even put up a fight, he must have really needed proper medical attention. Alucard put his tea down and rose. “In that case, I’ll be right back. I’ll find you two a decent room and try to furnish it a little.”

“But you didn’t even eat anything,” Sypha protested. 

“I’m not hungry, Sypha. Please, excuse me.” 

The kitchen was once again wrapped in an uncomfortable silence. Trevor pointed a finger at the dolls. Sypha nodded and closed her eyes, dispirited. She had noticed it too. 

“I tried talking to him, but he just… shuts me off.” she said.

“He’s pale. White, even. His hands are trembling. He has wounds that do not heal, I don’t know how old, and they do not end at his wrists. He obviously hasn’t been feeding.” Trevor counted under his breath. Sypha gave him a careful glance; she did not suspect him to notice as many things, being in a drunk haze and all that. But Trevor’s eyes noticed, and he felt very real pangs of guilt tearing at his chest. Maybe if they had been here, their friend would not fall prey to this unknown attacker, clever enough to actually catch him in silver snares and mangling him into that aloof state of distrust and coldness.

“He hasn’t been feeding, eating, sleeping too, I guess” Sypha said. “I tried to ask him how long he has been running as a wolf, but he wouldn’t tell me.”

“Maybe it’s easier for him to be a wolf now.”

Trevor straightened on his chair and winced in a painful grimace, as his wounds, bones and muscles protested angrily. He needed a drink. 

“Trevor, we’ll make it right. He needs us, but we’re no good to him the way we are now. You especially. How are you feeling?” she asked gently, laying a warm hand on top of his. He gave her a tired look.

“I will be alright, Sypha. I have been worse.” 

Sypha took a sip of her tea. “Well, I wouldn’t be so sure. It’s not everyday you were outnumbered and forced to fight against demons from actual hell, and a soul-sucking horror of a beast, several times over. I’m worried about you. This fight… if something was to happen to you, I would…” Her voice wavered, and Trevor immediately caught her hand in his.

“Whoah, shush, Sypha. Shush. We’re here, ok? Nothing happened. I’m here. I’m still standing. You won’t be rid of me so easily now that you tamed your brain damaged bear and took him to bed. You can imagine I will want to stick around for more of that.” She smiled at this and gave him a tender look, and he smiled back.

“You joke, but it’s serious. And I couldn’t even tend to your shoulder properly, I feel so useless.”

“It’s only thanks to you that we are alive, Sypha. You had my back. If I was alone there, that would be it.” 

She lifted a tender hand to his cheek and stroked the bearded face. Trevor smiled and braced himself to get up.

“I’ll tell you what, if you would help me bathe first, because, well... even for me it’s becoming a bit uncomfortable, then I’m going to ask Alucard to take a look at my shoulder and if it will make you feel better, I’m quite willing to spend the rest of my day in bed. I could, in theory, try to talk to him. You know, some male bonding, bro talk and whatnot. What do you say?” 

Sypha laughed briefly and gave him a happier smile. “I could live with that,” she said. “Let’s get you upstairs. Come on.”

She helped him to stand, sneaking a helping hand around his middle to assist if he needed her to, and they slowly made their way up to the bedroom they have stayed in previously, after the battle with Dracula. 

*******

The baths adjacent to their chamber were already filled with heat and steam. Alucard was busying himself around the room, while water was pouring into the marble basin in the floor; he opened a window to let in some fresh air, opened the curtains, changed the linen on the big four-poster bed. When Sypha brought in Trevor, Adrian let her do all the job as she saw fit; she took off Trevor’s shoes, his clothes down to the bandages and wrappings, and led him to the bathroom. Trevor seemed a little absent, squinting his eyes and taking in laboured, strained breaths that Alucard could easily hear. He was in pain. 

Small wonder. The gallery of bruises, hemorrhages, cuts and minor wounds spread itself all over his back, chest, abdomen, legs. An impressive, purple bruise on his shin, a reddish stain of subdermal bleeding all over his right biceps. The dressings covered his neck and shoulder completely and more of them was wrapped tightly around his ribcage. 

“I’ll bring you some more things while you’re taking a bath,” Alucard said quietly to Sypha, who smiled at him and nodded. “There is everything you need in there. Don’t apply any dressings later, I would like to do it, if you let me,” he offered.

“Okay then,” Trevor grunted. “Won’t be long.” 

Regardless of his assurances the bath did take a while. Warm water made wonders for his sore muscles and aching bones, but due to the injury he sustained back in Lindenfeld, Trevor couldn’t lift his left hand more than a couple of inches, so Sypha had to step in to wash his hair, upper body and his back. She lathered him up gently as he was sitting in the pool and kept whispering something, either small reassurances or something peppery, because once or twice he smiled foolishly and blushed. Alucard could not believe it. Blushing Trevor. Unbelievable.

He felt like an intruder again, like the fifth wheel, and he could only wait in uncomfortable silence as she was working. Sypha’s hands moved quickly and unashamedly, knowing their way around Trevor’s body. Alucard turned away not to look, but images appeared in front of his eyes by their own volition. He shook his head. He tried not to think about the intimacy they were sharing, about her nimble fingers washing his back and his broad shoulders; her hands dancing over his skin, disappearing in his hair, dipping down into the water to scrub his thighs. Brushing against his abdomen. 

_Enough_ , Alucard thought, enough. _Don’t look. Why do you even look, get a grip. Move. Do something. Be useful._

_Don’t disturb them._

He busied himself with thinking about medical supplies and things he had brought. Is it all he would need, is it enough? His mother’s study stood mostly abandoned all this time, and was miraculously untouched by the rabid fighting that had taken place. Alucard was able to find everything he suspected he will need and brought it here with him, like he had seen his mother do it, in a big leather bag with compartments. 

He heard laughter behind him. Real, sincere laughter; Sypha was laughing at something Trevor did or said and was protesting loudly at him splashing water over her. The sound was ringing in his ears, as it was so unusual in the dark and broody castle that it sounded tragically out of place; Alucard dared to turn around and glance towards the bath entrance, he heard her calling Belmont a dimwit and ordering him to get out of the tub. 

Soon they emerged from the bathroom, Sypha propping wet Trevor up and leading him to the bed. He was loosely wrapped in a big white sheet around his waist. Once he sat, Sypha took a smaller towel and dried his hair with tender, patient, deliberate movements. 

“That’s quite enough… Sypha… I’m not a child” he muttered, his head rocking with her movements. He glanced at her from under the towel, giving her a look that could only be classified as bedroom eyes. She smirked knowingly and huffed through the nose, leaving the towel tangled up on his head.

She turned to pick up the dirty clothes from the floor.

“I’ll go help Ksenia now, if that’s alright”, she told Alucard. “Unless you need any help?”

He shook his head. She whispered a small ‘thank you’ with a smile and left, closing the door behind her. Alucard looked at Trevor. He got rid of the towel from his head and was scrunching it up in his hands. The gash on his shoulder looked terrible. 

Alucard sighed.

“You don’t have a single healthy spot on your body. It’s like someone has been methodically beating the shit out of you, inch by inch, with a metal rod.”

“Close enough, it sure feels like it,” Trevor muttered. “ The shoulder is the worst.”

The dhampir came closer and took a closer look at the gash. It was stitched, but sloppily, and the edges of the wound did not meet anyway. The whole area was bright red and hot to the touch; Alucard could see remnants of the insufficiently rinsed green pulp he has seen somewhere already, and he grimaced. 

“Was that the woman’s doing?”

“No, that would be a ten feet tall, six-winged demon with a bardish,” Trevor scoffed.

Alucard rolled his eyes. “The sutures, Belmont.”

“Ah. No. That was Sypha.” 

Trevor shot Alucard a cocky grin, but the dhampir could tell how uncomfortable he really was. He was perspiring in sticky, cold sweat, his pupils were slightly dilated, his breath hitching and frequent, his heart rate rapid. Alucard quickly calculated in his head a proper dose of antibiotics he should administer, accounting for Trevor’s body weight. He touched the shoulder delicately, but Trevor flinched with a surprised gasp.

“Your fingers are SO cold,” he complained. “Like Sypha’s feet, only worse.” 

“Trevor. Stop fooling around.” Alucard looked at him somberly. “You’re just… It’s fucking serious. What the hell happened in Lindenfeld?”

Silence befell the bedroom. Trevor stopped smiling, dropped his facade and sighed shakily. Alucard could hear the strain in his breath, as he tried not to expand his ribcage too much. 

“Okay, I’ll tell you everything, but first - do you, by God’s mercy, have some booze?”

Alucard snorted angrily and moved away from Trevor to rummage through his bag. 

“Alcohol is a very weak and inefficient painkiller, all things considered,” he said. “Also, the amount of side effects is simply not worth it on the long run. I’ll give you something proper. In addition, you are going to need a decent dose of antiseptic medicines, both on the wound surface and orally”. 

Trevor made a face.

“Just focus on the painkillers, instead of daydreaming of oral activities. I’m literally dying here,” he said. Alucard closed his eyes and shook his head, thinking of why he even bothered. The look he gave Trevor over his shoulder was incredulous. “What?” Trevor laughed. “I have to check if you’re still in there, you princeling vampire bastard.” 

Alucard stood perfectly still above the leather suitcase.

“Are you…?” Trevor asked quietly, a note of anxiety creeping up his voice.

Alucard stood still for a moment, then gave him a sly look over his shoulder, lifting up a metal syringe and waving it in the air nonchalantly.

“Let’s find out, shall we?” he said with an almost imperceptible twitch of his eyebrows. 

Trevor actually frowned at the sight of the strange object, not sure for a while if the dhampir is serious or not, and Alucard smiled minutely, but this time for real. 

“It’s a syringe, calm down; I won’t stick it up your ass, Belmont” he said, taking a couple of small bottles out of the bag and coming closer to the bed again. 

“Yes! You’re still in there, thank God you’re still in there,” Trevor laughed a bit too enthusiastic, as he winced suddenly and wrapped his right hand around his middle to steady his ribs on an instinct. “Oh, my fucking God. Aw. So what the hell is that for?”

“I will give you an injection to your shoulder. It will help with the pain and the swelling. I’m sorry, but I have to take out all of those stitches and just... do everything anew,” Alucard said. 

“Fantastic. Shit,” Trevor went visibly pale. “Goddamn it. What do you have there?”

“Laudanum.” Alucard poured a carefully measured dose of the drug to a small glass.

“Fuck. Give me all of it,” he asked. 

“Like hell I would. You can overdose this and never wake up. So be careful, and try to drink it in one gulp, it’s very bitter,” he said and passed him the glass. Trevor downed it quickly and a series of disgusted sounds followed, as the medicine was, indeed, horrible. 

“I will need to palpate your ribs; I’m not sure they’re broken but they certainly give you trouble breathing,” he said, going down on one knee and beckoning Trevor to sit straight. He gently run his fingers over the ribcage, feeling for any bone fractures; he found a couple of places he didn’t like, but no broken bones. “I would like to hear your breathing. Take a breath, as deep as you possibly can.” Trevor complied, even though the air threatened to go out of his lungs with a moan. Alucard seemed satisfied, though. “Luckily, no apparent fractures. The cracks in the bones are quite probable in a couple of places… but mostly it’s just bad, deep bruising. It will heal by itself, if you take it easy. Let me bandage you.” 

Trevor was sitting still, trying to give Alucard better access. He made a quick work with a length of proper, elastically woven bandage, of pure white color, which seemed to hold Trevor’s chest tighter than just strips of linen. Alucard made sure the compressive vest allows enough room for breathing and is not too uncomfortable, tied off the ends securely and moved to stand. 

“That woman mentioned your back,” he muttered. “And you do have bruises there the size of the Baltic basin. Do you feel pain in your spine? What happened exactly, were you squashed down under something?”

“No… a creature from hell tossed me into a solid wall with as much power is it could muster, and then I fell on the ground. From the height of, I don’t know, twelve feet. I had a concussion, but it’s mostly gone. I was spitting blood for a while.” 

“Was there blood in your piss?” Alucard asked matter-of-factly.

“Whoa, personal,” Trevor scoffed. “...Yes.” 

“So your kidneys were damaged as well,” Alucard sighed. “That is *not* good. Really not good.”

“It’s back to normal now, anyway.” 

There wasn’t much Alucard could do for Trevor’s spine, except for preparing special salves and ointments that would alleviate the bruising and bring some pain relief. He added a mental note to the list of medicines, though, to account for sustaining proper kidney function. He reached for the book with notes that his mother left behind, and went through all of the motions again. In a matter of minutes he prepared the metal syringe with some strange, yellowish liquid; he inhaled a couple of times, murmured something to himself, as if reciting the instruction, and brushed Trevor’s wet hair out of the way, baring his shoulder. The gesture was surprisingly gentle. Trevor shot him a look.

“Sypha doesn’t realize how severe are your injuries, right?” Alucard asked, positioning the needle. 

Belmont raised his eyebrows, his eyes catching briefly on the metal instrument so close to his neck, and went back to Alucard. “I am discussing it with you, though.” 

Alucard hesitated. This act of trust felt uncomfortable and welcome in the same time. 

“I'm… a little out of practice. This might sting.” He said, cleaning the patch of skin with an alcohol infused cotton wad and lifting the syringe to make an injection. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Trevor said. “Shoot away.”

“This is a simple, short-term painkiller,” Alucard explained, administering the shot as carefully as he could. “I’m doing it intramuscular, which means it does not enter your bloodstream, but acts locally. You should feel numbness, or dull throbbing, but no pain.” Trevor winced a little when the needle was pulled out, but it was not entirely bad. Alucard’s hands were steady now, not like during breakfast. “Now try to relax… do not clench your muscles. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

The dhampir went about pulling out the stitches. Once he did, and the sloppy threads did not hold the flesh anymore, he indeed could see quite deep into the wound, which started to bleed again and seep whitish liquid in a couple of places. He cleaned it thoroughly, applied several tinctures, removed any offending or suspicious pieces of tissue and proceeded to stitch it back together. Trevor was keeping still, but his face was tense. 

“So… there’s good news and bad news, Belmont.” 

“Will I be able to wield the whip?” Trevor asked, for the first time truly serious. His voice was unpleasant.

“...Yes, eventually. That’s the good news, because the wound is not necessarily big, not wide, you see. So you don’t have that much ligament, muscle or nerve damage. You were lucky, in many respects. But on the other hand, it is quite deep. The blade rested on the bone. Your clavicle is broken, that’s why it hurts so much.” 

“Fuck my life,” Trevor hissed. “So, what… six weeks without moving my arm?”

“May be more, actually,” Alucard informed him coldly. “You have been putting strain on the arm, moving it, even fighting, from what I hear. So the tissue is torn, and the bones squashed. It will be healing slowly, you will experience stiffness, pain, and the bones may yet align badly, and accrete that way. So you cannot move that arm, doesn’t matter what you do. Give it time. Give it rest. And after that, you will need physiotherapy.”

“I will need what?”

“Physiotherapy. Slow, calm, and accurate exercises that will restore muscle density and strength, and keep the bones in their correct positions. This shoulder will also be more prone to injuries or traumas in the future.” 

Trevor sighed. “I won’t lose ability to move, that’s all that matters,” he said in a bit more calm voice. Alucard was finishing the stitches. 

He sprinkled the wound with a smelly liquid, applied a white paste on top of the wound and put the dressing on. Then the limb was properly positioned and tightly held in place with means of more bandage and an arm sling. 

“You really shouldn't move it. I mean it.” Alucard went back to his mother’s notes, sitting next to Trevor on the bed. “Just… don’t do anything with it until I figure out how to put the cast on it. I’m not sure I have gypsum here, we’re going to have to figure something out.” 

Belmont smiled discreetly at the dhampir closing the distance between them; finally, the man thought. Up to this point he would sit far away from him and Sypha, find a place exactly opposite, or would stand tense and quiet, watching their movements, but now, as he was engrossed in the notes and focused on the task at hand he has dropped his guard. Trevor was glad, and a wave of relief washed over him as he realized that not everything is lost. 

“I think that would be it for what I can see… You need to take some medicine, of course, to keep the infection at bay, and I would recommend bed regime for at least a week, but… you and I both know that’s not gonna happen. You’re not going to stay abed, that’s for sure.”

“I just might,” Trevor said quietly. “I feel like shit.”

“Is there any pain just now?” Alucard asked.

“Not as much as before. Manageable. Thank you, Adrian.” Trevor looked the dhampir straight in the eye and only now Alucard realized how close together they are sitting. 

Once this imaginary barrier of space has been breached, mostly by accident, he discovered he doesn’t really mind that much. On the contrary, he could feel his loneliness and his own pain well up within him and Trevor’s presence was like the only candle in an otherwise completely dark room, and once he was close to it, he couldn’t imagine going back to the darkness for fear of everything that lurked in it. For a short while he felt like a small boy again, wandering endless halls of his father’s castle in deafening silence in search for his parent.

“So can you tell me what happened in Lindenfeld?” he asked a bit shakily, in a badly disguised attempt to force his mind to focus on something else.

“Can you tell me what happened here?” Trevor asked, looking intently at the garish, red wound on Alucard’s wrist, which was clearly visible because he had rolled his sleeves up when working on the wound. Alucard pulled his sleeves down immediately. “Wounds left by silver cords, soaked in holy water and salt. I think I have seen the device in question in the depths of that stupid hole in the ground under my family mansion. And it doesn’t want to heal, for some reason. Why, Alucard? For any other vampire, this might have been enough to kick the proverbial bucket, but for you? You’re too strong for that. You have Dracula’s strength and blood of your mother in your veins, which also protects you from the petty shit like _salt_. So why doesn’t it heal, Alucard?”

The dhampir turned his face away. He wondered briefly at Trevor’s perceptiveness and how little time he needed to figure all that out, but then, it was his field of expertise. He had half a mind to punch Trevor for being an intrusive prick, but a part of him wanted to know more about the vexing injuries, which were still causing him pain. Not that he treated them in any way; he didn’t try out any salve or bandage, stubbornly waiting for them to close on their own. It was irrational, he knew. He couldn’t exactly understand why would he want to continue with this line of conversation, either. 

Trevor did not hurry him up.

“I’m not... entirely sure. I suppose I would have to feed… to replenish some strength for it to heal properly, but it doesn’t explain it… entirely.” Alucard said finally, giving out a shaky exhale.

“You haven’t been feeding at all?” Trevor asked. Alucard was surprised to hear genuine concern under the raspy, grumpy tone of his voice. 

“...Some,” he said reluctantly. “Mostly on animal blood.”

“That is not enough to heal you. And it somehow feels wrong. Like you eating scraps or something.” 

“Well, I didn’t exactly get any human guests.” Alucard hissed.

“Oh, there were two guests. It was them who did that to you.” Trevor shook his head. “How on earth did they get so close to bind you in silver cords? Why were they scavenging Belmont Hold? You didn’t see them coming? Were they that good? 

“Just... shut it, Belmont.” Alucard made a move as if he wanted to get up, but he didn't. “Too many questions.” 

“Just one. What happened?” 

Trevor’s eyes were concerned. Foggy and dilated with the medicines, but gentle.

Alucard relented, not believing himself.

“These two came here from afar. They were searching for me especially. Anti-Dracula, they called me. They wanted to learn, to train, for me to teach them how to become better vampire hunters. They had a plan to go back to their country and free it from slavery. Tyranny which one of Dracula’s generals wrought about the land. Cho, they called her.”

Trevor frowned. “Wasn’t she here, when Dracula summoned his forces?”

“Yes. This is when they managed to escape. They said they learned to track the castle in some way, and they have come here to kill Cho. But they found she is already dead, and instead of revenge they wanted me to instruct them. To help them. They said they needed… a friend.”

“And you… agreed?” Trevor asked, his voice careful.

“I let them in,” Alucard said slowly, staring at some faraway point in the room. “I gave them access to the libraries, to the castle laboratories, to Belmont Hold. I was teaching them. We trained together. They… I allowed them to live here in the castle.” 

“Shit, Adrian,” Trevor groaned. “You stupid, naive bastard. They turned on you when you weren’t expecting it.” 

Alucard didn’t respond for a longer while, rubbing his brow with a shaky, unhealthy white hand. 

“I let my guard down. I just…” he sighed. Couldn’t bring himself to finish, nor to tell the whole truth.

“You didn’t think their vampire hunting would include you as well,” Trevor finished for him. He could feel a bitter, tight grip of shame and guilt at the back of his throat as he realized that Alucard chose to trust those humans based on his experience with him and Sypha, and was cruelly disenchanted as the two hunters didn’t necessarily consider him human enough to let him live. Humanity once again proved Dracula right. As the thought of the vampire overlord appeared in Trevor’s head, it was immediately followed by a thought of Alucard’s mother, who was also betrayed and killed mercilessly by the same human race, and Trevor wondered bitterly just how much capacity Alucard has left for such silly concepts as compassion or forgiveness. If any at all.

“No wonder you were pissed.” he said finally, hoping to put a lid on all of it and move on. 

It was a wrong thing to say.

Alucard hissed as if burned, got up from the bed angrily and started pacing.

“That’s it? That’s what you have to say, Belmont? _‘No wonder you were pissed’_?” Alucard sneered. “You’re not going to comment upon the two bodies put on stakes in front of my home, you’re not going to confront me about it? Punish me by calling me a monster, like father, like son? What’s the matter with you, Belmont!” the dhampir bared his fangs in unabashed threat and in two steps was back next to the bed again to give Trevor a hostile look from the above. The man drew back slightly at the flash of red around his irises, but met the challenge in Alucard’s eyes calmly. 

“Stop, would you? Just stop.” 

“Stop what?!” 

“Stop *that*! Stop trying to convince me that you went rabid, that you are somehow dangerous to me and Sypha!” Trevor said with sudden agitation. “Stop trying to force the notion that you are like daddy dearest now, all of a sudden. I know you’re not. You’ve proven that several times over. I trusted you with my life, you are my friend and I have come back home to you. These are the only words you are going to hear from me on the matter, do you understand?” 

Alucard balled his hands into fists, looking at Trevor with mutiny in his eyes. The hunter’s look was determined, challenging even, and Adrian felt tempted to argue more, but realized it wouldn’t really help his case.. And yet, it was somehow too easy, to be forgiven so easily, to be just excused for what he did without any repercussions whatsoever. Was Trevor that tired? Did he think he would lose to Alucard in his state if it came to a fight, and backed off on purpose? Did he not care? Or was he in denial, refusing to acknowledge what Alucard did?

“Do. you. understand me?” Trevor repeated, still scowling. “I need to know we are on the same page here, because if I hear any more of your batshit logic and self-pity, screw that collarbone I AM going to trash you!” 

Alucard’s jaws were clenched too tight to speak. Suddenly he couldn’t endure that determined stare any longer. Why would he really want to refuse forgiveness or acceptance? What did he really want, what was he doing? He avoided Trevor’s eyes, shifted his position. They were silent for a moment, Alucard trying to calm himself with deep breaths and introspecting desperately, Trevor pressing his right hand over his middle, as his ribs did not appreciate the outburst and subsequent yelling. 

Relenting finally, Alucard sighed and went back to the leather case to prepare necessary medicine; after a while of rummaging through the contents of the bag and mixing powders he came back to the bed and set the prepared drugs gingerly on the nightstand. Trevor rubbed his brow tiredly, took a shaky breath.

“Look, you killed them because they tried to kill you - you were defending yourself. I figured out this much myself. You made them into scarecrows because you didn’t want any other visitors. Could have been less gross about it, but hey. You do you. You’re not exactly a blushing maiden. Or,” Trevor’s tone suddenly switched into a serious note, “...or, you’re not telling me everything.” 

The hunter scowled at him again, and Alucard couldn’t hide a sting of unease. Could he tell? Was there any tell-tale sign in his behaviour or was it something else? Adrian tensed up visibly at the thought of having something giving him away, something betraying the shame he brought on himself, at the notion of his friends knowing what happened to him that night. What he allowed, what he *agreed* to happen to him. Trevor obviously misread the signs and backed off, suddenly defensive. 

“But I won’t push you into talking, I’m not Sypha. And no, you are not going to hear me judge you, not even banter or joke about it. Not this time. Not when it is mostly my fault that it ended this way,” he offered.

“What is this gibberish now?” Alucard scoffed.

“It’s because of what I said after Dracula died! Take the Hold, take the castle, make something out of it, be a fucking guardian! You took them in because in my infinite stupidity I convinced you to pass the knowledge on to next generations, and the only thing you ever wanted was to do good. And it blew up in your face.” 

Alucard suddenly wanted to laugh, but he didn’t. He let his arms dangle defenselessly at his sides, the tension seeping out of him, leaving him strangely hollow. He felt a weird urge to sit next to Trevor again. 

It occurred to Adrian that he is not prepared at all for this conversation. During the last week, whenever he had imagined his friends coming back to him - and he had been entertaining it in his head, as improbable, unforseen scenario as it seemed to be - these visions would only include rejection, disgust and horrified stares. He expected them both to simply run away or start fighting him, he expected hellfire and the whip. He would understand that reaction. He would be prepared to counter that. 

He would bar the front door and seal the castle, or reciprocate with anger and fight, kick them out, maybe break a couple of Trevor’s limbs for good measure. He would show them how much he had suffered at their departure, but he would also prove it pointless to try to be around him now and make up for it. But this? No revenge, no rebuke, this unfathomable acceptance of the blame as theirs? He felt confused, he felt disarmed. 

“It’s not because of what you had said.” Alucard muttered finally, not knowing what else to say. It was an obvious lie and Trevor wasn’t buying it.

“It’s also because we were absent. Because you were left here, all alone.” 

The dhampir didn’t answer. He just stared straight ahead.

“I… Adrian, these dolls you made… now this is fucking disturbing. That you would feel like you needed to do this.”

You have no idea, Alucard thought bitterly recalling other things he had done because of his loneliness. Images came again, images of two suntanned bodies draped over him, wriggling against his skin, probing and touching. He flinched in disgust and turned his head away; Trevor read it wrong again.

“I am… I am sorry we left,” he said softly, very quietly, and for a while there Alucard was not sure if he really said it or if it was just his imagination. “I wish we never left.” 

There it was. Alucard’s breath hitched and left his body altogether in a long, sad sigh; he wished they have never left either. He felt the urge to lie down, as sudden feebleness took hold of his limbs and his head started to spin, or to cry, because something was choking him deep within his chest. The hand which he brought to his face was visibly shaking. 

“Listen, you need to lie down and get some rest,” he said in a voice which was breaking and there was nothing he could do about it any longer. “I will check on you later. Now I just… I have to go.” 

Adrian spun on his heel and went out of the room quickly, leaving everything behind, the bag, the book with his mother’s notes and all of the utensils in disarray. It was unlike him, but he just wanted to put as much distance between himself and Trevor as physically possible, as tears were stinging in his eyes and threatened to spill free. He passed the empty corridor quick like a ghost, turned left to run down the stairs and to just be out, out, out of here, to turn into a wolf and just run, run until he is tired and spent and doesn’t think about his friends or that they left him or anything stupid he has done in their absence, not to think about those hands on his body, hands in his hair, kisses pressed hotly to his neck, chest and thighs, and a sharp, icy, yet burning pain in the wounds that were wrapped around his body. 

He got out finally, pushing the huge door open just enough to squeeze through them, and keeping his head as low as possible not to see the two decaying, stinking carcasses impaled obscenely on both sides of the staircase he turned into his wolf form. 

Just in time, before red tears of blood fell in heavy, thick droplets from his eyes. 

*******

It was late, very late in the evening when Alucard decided that he is drained enough to be able to come back to the castle. A wicked run through the trees and bushes exhausted him, the cold wind tearing at his fur allowed the emotional pain to be blown away with it and the unfazed, purely biological rhythm of the natural world, where the animals and vegetation would go about their lives as usual, calmed him down enough to accept the concept of facing some human interaction again this evening. He couldn’t bring himself to walk through the front door again, though. He couldn’t bear the thought of *them* being there. Flanking the entrance. 

Waiting for him. 

He settled for one of the back entrances, the domestic quarters of the castle, not so pompous and clearly added to the structure to make it feel a bit like home. It was done back in the day when Alucard’s mother was still alive. The dhampir focused his will and in a split second his wolf form retracted, diminished, leaving only an exhausted man standing on the ground near the stone fence encircling his improvised garden. He passed his flowerbeds, his vegetable patch, and headed towards the small, wooden door to the kitchen. The only space in the huge castle which felt somewhat safe and a little bit homely. 

Alucard could see the light coming from the windows; the fire was clearly on, someone must have been there. He chanced the thought that it might be Sypha, but as soon as he heard a voice he knew it wasn’t hers. The voice was singing quietly a slow, wistful melody, in a strange language he did not quite recognize. 

He reached for the doorknob mechanically, his body moved on its own. He did not look forward to any talking, but he needed some warmth and maybe something to drink; he felt tired, spent, _human_ even, and recognized the fatigue as first bodily symptoms of thirst. He would need to consume some blood, and soon, if he wanted to avoid real craving. 

The person occupying the kitchen was Ksenia. She was sitting close to the stove, using the fire as a source of light, hunched over some needlework on her lap. She was so preoccupied that she even didn’t notice Alucard enter the kitchen; she kept singing that strange melody, full of longing and nostalgia, and for a second there Adrian swayed, because the similarity between what he saw and how he remembered his own _mother_ was almost painful. 

Pain again. Is being with people only going to be painful…? Even if it is something good…?

Ksenia heard a decisive click of the door being closed and tossed her head up, stopping the song abruptly. She took in Adrian’s disheveled appearance and froze with a needle in mid-air; her face shrunk as she saw his dull eyes with tired circles underneath, the matted, knotted curtain of hair with loose straws in it, dirty coat drenched with fog and evening dew. She put the garment she was repairing down on the table and pulled a second chair closer to the fire.

“Sit down, please,” she said, “you are on your last legs. And give me that coat.” 

She moved in to take the wet coat off of Adrian’s shoulders and to his own surprise he just didn’t react and let her do it. She flicked it in the air to remove the water and hung it over another chair to dry; Alucard moved towards the fireplace, welcoming the warmth, making a dispirited note to self that feeling cold and being less resistant to the elements in general is just one more of those irritating little things caused by his need for blood. He sighed as he sat down and rested his elbows on his knees, staring into the fire.

A woolen blanket was draped around his shoulders and a mug of warm, greenish liquid pressed into his hands. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked quietly, tilting his head to look at the woman. Ksenia hesitated, her face full of genuine concern and a little bit of hurt, but after a short moment of uncertainty she just returned to her own chair and picked up the needle. 

“Nothing, I guess,” she said sadly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

Alucard turned his face away. He noticed there is a big pile of neatly folded clothing and other textiles laying on the table and on some of the worktops of kitchen cabinets; even now Ksenia was repairing Sypha’s blue Speaker outer robe. Alucard could notice a lot of patches on freshly washed bed rolls, darned stockings and sweaters, and probably all of Trevor’s tunics and shirts. The man was such a slob. 

“You did all of this yourself in one evening?” he asked.

“Sypha helped me with the washing, “ Ksenia answered. “She showed me how to use the tap and where to dispose of the water. It’s amazing, really. Those pipes… and all of this engineering.” She lifted the robe and pulled at the fabric to see something better. “Would you like to eat something? You skipped breakfast, lunch _and_ dinner. You must be starving.”

“I am not hungry.” 

The log in the fire toppled over with a pleasant, crackly noise. Alucard stared into the depths of his mug. He could smell nettle, linden leaves and camomile. He took a sip and a lovely warmth spread through his parched throat as he did so; the tea was slightly sweet and not at all unpleasant. 

“So how is Trevor’s shoulder?” Ksenia asked after a while.

“Not great,” Alucard answered. “He may yet be alright if he doesn’t do something stupid. He needs to give it time to heal. But the wound is deep. The stitching was… hah, I thought it was you, but I see you have a knack for it,” Adrian smirked.

Ksenia chanced a small smile. 

“I would take those sutures out as well, if that was possible on the road, but I was afraid I will only make it worse or allow for an infection to settle,” she said naturally, still focused on her repair. “Well, I’m glad you could provide him with some real help. He needed proper medicine, not something I could whip up from the herbs found in a ditch.” She put the needle down and started folding the robe into a neat square. She put it aside and reached for the wicker basket on the floor, where a couple more items waited for her attention. Alucard was following her movements lazily with his golden eyes.

“Is that every single piece of clothing they had?” he asked. 

“More or less,” she smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m finishing very soon. I’ll just quickly do this one, as it’s small… the rest will have to wait for tomorrow morning.” She gave Alucard a calming look, as if she wanted to soothe some untold worry or a pretense he might have had. “I will be gone in a minute, I remember I am to spend the night at the camp.”

“It’s not like…”

“Oh please, you truly do not need to explain yourself,” she interrupted. “I understand. And it’s fine.” She moved to rub at the nape of her neck, strained after so long time in one position. “I *need* to get some decent fabric, you know. I am not sure how to go around it. But there is no place nearby I could possibly get it from... Tough luck.”

“What do you need fabric for?” Alucard asked.

“I wanted to make something for myself,” she said, still rubbing her neck. “Trevor stole these clothes for me, but I don’t have any other change. I suppose I will have to borrow something from Sypha for the time being.”

She returned to the garment on her lap, assessing the damage. Absentmindedly, she started to hum again in the process of threading the needle and settling down to repair a tear at the seam of the white camisole. 

It was almost peaceful. Warm, quiet, and peaceful.

“There probably are…” Alucard started, but his voice came out raspy and hoarse, and he couldn’t believe himself for saying it - but then, he has already opened his mouth to speak, and it really was a simple thing. She needed clothes. As easy as that. “...I think there are a couple of dresses I could simply give you. I don’t have any use for them.”

Ksenia shot him a tense, disbelieving look.

“Dresses…?” she asked.

He cleared his throat. “Yes. My mother’s.” 

Ksenia took a deep breath and shook her head seriously. 

“Alucard, thank you for the thought, but I believe this would just be very, very uncomfortable for both of us. So thank you, I’ll pass. But,” she lifted a finger with a victorious smirk, “maybe there are some curtains I could salvage?” 

That finally elicited a small, tired smile from the dhampir. “There are centuries of dust and mold on any given curtains in this castle, so I doubt you could have any use of them,” he said.

“I could always introduce said curtains to the mysteries of hot water and soap,” Ksenia smiled back. 

“True, you could. You are very good at this, you know. Running a household. Cooking, sewing. Whatnot.” 

“Thank you,” she said with a nod, still working on the hole in Sypha’s camisole. “Well, I grew up on the countryside. I learned fairly quickly. My mother died when I was only seven, and somebody had to take care of my father. He wasn’t really in a condition to do much, so… I gradually took over.” 

“You are Slavian, aren’t you?” Alucard asked. “It’s a gamble, I think I recognize the accent, but I’m not sure.” 

“Yes. Poland.” 

“Where exactly in the Kingdom of Poland?”

She hesitated; it was clear she wants to give him some coordinates, but nothing really came to her head. “You see, there were no bigger cities by which I might prompt you what region that was… we were calling the land Lasovia, from ‘ _lasy_ ”, which means forests. Which means there was nothing but trees, really, in… sixty mile radius, maybe.”

“Could you show me on a map?” 

“I cannot read maps.” 

“That’s not true. You can read, alright. The Inquisition does not persecute illiterate women.” 

There was a moment of silence between them; Ksenia didn’t even flinch at the accusation, calmly continuing her work. Alucard took a gentle sip from his cup. 

“What I meant is I have never seen a map before.” She said slowly. “So I don’t know if I can read it or not.”

Alucard felt stupid all of a sudden. He knew that it is not strange nor surprising that he is not willing to trust a stranger and hasn’t immediately warmed up to the weird guest with a questionable backstory, especially after events of late. He didn’t intend to change this strategy. In the same time he expected to be confronted or questioned about it, as he supposed this would be upsetting to most. Ksenia, on the other hand, deliberately withheld from doing so, quietly agreeing to the boundaries he set or providing an explanation where he was ready to jump into conclusions. Moreover, the woman wasn’t doing anything wrong. Her attitude and a sheer amount of work she would do just to make the situation of her new companions better was commendable. So Alucard couldn’t help but feel stupid. And slightly annoyed. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, angry that she forced him to it. Except that she didn't. 

She gave him a long look. Took in his tired, puffy eyes and ashy complexion, the lovely flaxen hair that have lost all of their shine, falling down his shoulders in a knotted, unattended mess. She noted his tense posture, how he protectively wrapped his hands around his middle. 

“Would you like some more tea?” she tried gently.

Silence. 

“Yes, please.”

She smiled at that, put the garment aside and stood up to reach for the teapot. Alucard was observing her stiffened foot as she moved, and noticed that she doesn’t need a walking stick anymore. 

“How’s the leg?” he asked, holding up his mug.

“A bit better, I haven’t been walking much today,” she said casually and prepared a second mug for herself. “You know, I have been thinking… it’s not that your kitchen lacks anything, no, it’s perfect, and quite well-stocked at that, but… there is four of us now and the food is needed. Diversified food, to make up for all that dry goat meat nonsense they have been eating on the road. Sypha keeps feeling faint and weak, she complains at headaches and that her head is spinning. I think she exhausted herself past the limit.”

“Most probably she has anemia,” Alucard said. “I can smell there is something wrong with her blood.” 

Ksenia shot him a look. “...right. So I thought that meat would be a wise choice. Venison would be easy to get. I can try and shoot some quails, pigeons, preferably a couple of ducks. What do you think?”

“I think it’s a must,” Alucard agreed. “Leave the hunting to me. We can use the cellar for storage, it is quite cold, there is also a big ice box there and I have a whole bag of salt, so we can keep some for later. It’s early spring; if we want more vegetables, there is still time to plant those.”

“Do you have any seeds?”

“Yes. There is a wide selection in the outhouse.” 

“I can help you with those, then. I’ll start on it tomorrow.” 

“Would be great. I’m not any good at this.” 

Ksenia smiled good-naturedly.

“You managed just fine, Alucard.” 

There was another moment of silence between them. Silence that he found oddly natural. It was not tense and heavy, like with Trevor before. Maybe not being very close or emotionally attached helped somehow, because it didn’t call for making things right, or straining not to offend one another. It was what it was. Just a conversation.

“What are you even doing here in Wallachia? Poland is quite… far away. How did you get here?” Alucard asked, driven by curiosity.

Ksenia grimaced. She didn’t answer, so he looked at her more intently straightening in the chair, waiting for whatever story she would give. She arched an eyebrow at him and shook her head.

“There are several packs of brigand warriors, horsemen or vagabonds travelling back and forth from the areas of Eastern Poland and Lithuania to various points in Europe,” she offered grimly. “They make it their occupation to raid the small settlements, plunder for pelts, amber, grain; for cattle or horses… or people. To sell them later with great profit in bigger cities of the ‘civilized world’.” 

“You… you were kidnapped, enslaved, and sold in Wallachia?”

Ksenia took a deeper breath, her lips still curled in an unpleasant grimace.

“In Budapest.” she forced herself to say. “It is one of the reasons we are called slavs, are we not?” she asked in a sarcastic tone.

“It… is one of the etymologies, yes.” Alucard hung his head. “So what happened to you later?” 

Ksenia shifted impatiently on the chair, her grimace going deeper and her hands loosing the grip on the needle, which sneaked free of the short thread, fell to the floor with a small plunk and disappeared somewhere to the dark corners of the kitchen. She muttered a small ‘kurwa mać ’ under her breath and gathered her skirt to kneel and look for it, but Alucard’s sight was far superior and he noticed the item very quickly. He stopped her calmly, reaching for the needle and passing it to her. As his fingers brushed hers, he realized she is avoiding his eyes and he decided he had prodded too far. She must have been quite self-conscious about her story, especially after what she blurted out in the stream in front of him, unaware of his true form. He wanted to apologize for the second time this evening, but she cleared her throat suddenly, raked her hand through her hair and gave him a small, tired smile. 

“And what do you think happened to a fifteen year old girl sold on a slave market? Look, you do not really want to hear this story, and I do not care to recall it. Focus on yourself a little. You look ill, and we should probably call it a day, get some sleep. Unless you want me to prepare something for you. You cannot just refuse to eat altogether, half-vampire or not. You have your limits too, you know.”

Alucard shook his head with a sigh, settling for ignoring the offer.

“Do you exist for the sole purpose of pleasing others?”

“No. But it is a decent thing to help.” 

She wasn’t graced with an answer, as the dhampir just kept staring into the fire. Completely passive, he seemed to lose interest in her altogether, so she decided to wrap up quickly and re-threaded the needle for the last time to finish the last inch of the tear.

“You were singing before” Alucard spoke all of a sudden. 

She nodded. “Yeah… just a silly thing to pass the time.” 

“Could you sing it once again?” 

Ksenia looked at him. He kept observing the flames, wrapped up in the blanket. Absent. Sad. Fractured.

_“Och, czyj to koń stoi,”_ she started. _“Splecioną ma grzywę. Pokochałem ci ja, pokochałem ci ja, przepiękną dziewczynę.” (1)_

He closed his eyes, leaning back in the chair, just listening to the steady, melancholic rhythm. His chest raised and fell with a deep, calming breath. His body seemed to relax a little, so she went ahead and kept singing over the last of her needlework.

_“Nie tyle dziewczynę, co jej białe liczka. Podajże, dziewczyno, podajże, ma miła, rękę na konika.”_

_“Dziewczyna podeszła, posłusznie dłoń dała, oj gdybym ja była, oj gdybym ja była, kochania nie znała… kochania nie znała.”_

Alucard kept his eyes closed. He was just so tired, but if he focused hard enough, if he made enough effort, he could trick his brain into thinking that it’s not today, not this exact evening, not that woman sitting here, but someone else, someone he missed with every fiber of his being. If he just forced his tortured mind into compliance, he would believe for a short, blissful moment that it was not this voice, singing in a lower key and in an unfamiliar tongue, but the voice of his mother, humming gently over preparing a cake or drawing something in her sketchbook. If he just kept imagining her face. Her laughing eyes, a beautiful halo of golden locks crowning her head, small, impatient hands stirring the pot always a bit too hastily. If he just kept thinking about her. If he just listened, without opening his eyes, taking in the warmth of the fire and surroundings of the kitchen, where she used to bustle about so often. If he just tried hard enough… he could be safe again. He could feel like a boy again. It was almost like she would turn around with a smile and place a tender kiss on the top of his head. 

_“Kochania, kochania… z wieczora do rana… gdy słoneczko wzejdzie, gdy słoneczko wzejdzie, ostanę się sama… Gdy słoneczko wzejdzie, gdy słoneczko wzejdzie, ostanę się sama.”_

Ksenia finished her song and looked up, an a startled, loud cry escaped her as she saw bloody tears falling down Adrian’s cheeks. His eyes flew open in an instant. Seeing her frightened expression and a wide-eyes stare pointed at his face he lifted both hands to his cheeks; he didn’t realize the betrayal of his body until he felt wetness on his fingertips. In sudden anger he balled his hands into fists, smearing the blood on his hands and digging his fingernails onto the skin of his palms. He couldn’t force himself to look at Ksenia.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, shaken. “Tell me what can I do. How can I help you?...” she moved to put a hand on his shoulder and he shrugged it off violently. 

“Get out,” he hissed. 

“Alucard, you need help, just tell me what to do,” she tried to reason, but he stood up suddenly and the chair flew back, thrown with an angry force, to meet the wall and shatter into splinters. 

“I said GET OUT!” he yelled, furious, and she just bolted for the exit. 

The wooden door contacted hard with the wall, giving out a loud thud as she ran out of the kitchen, and all he could hear next was her sobbing and panicked, retreating footsteps in the deafening silence. 

The white camisole was on the floor, left unfinished. 

Alucard slid down to his knees; covering his face with his hands, he started to cry, in terrible, silent, body-shattering waves that would not stop. 

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

(1) It’s an old Ukrainian love ballad, which I transcribed into Polish. You can find it on You Tube if you type in the title, “Oj czyj to kiń stoit”. Translation goes more or less like this: / Oh, whose that horse is over there / its mane is all tangled up / I fell in love, I fell in love with a beautiful girl. // Not so much in a girl, as in her image / Come girl, come dearest, give me a hand and sit on the horse with me. // The girl approaches / obediently gives her hand / it would be better, it would be better if I didn’t know loving // Loving, tender loving from dusk till dawn / once the sun is up, once the sun is up / I’ll be bereft of you.


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special warnings for this chapter: explicit description of alcohol withdrawal, seizures, physical and emotional suffering, lots of medical stuff. It's a dead dove, so... if you want to skip this part, it's towards the end of the chapter. 
> 
> This was quite difficult to write, and my beta reader was merciless ("What the heck is that, ER Wallachia? Alucard's Anatomy? Get yourself together!") but I am standing by it ;) I have done my research, but of course, I am not a doctor, I don't write from a professional point of view, and liberties are taken. 
> 
> I wanted to thank you for all the kind reviews. :)) And ask for feedback. Like I said, this was difficult, so I would like to know what you think about it.

**PART 3**

The merciful sun rays found its way through the dark, dusty corridors, threadbare carpets and old oil paintings of some distant no-names of history, as Alucard slept in his wolf form curled in on himself, on the floor next to the door of Trevor and Sypha’s bedroom. The sun crept up on him, tingling his big, wet nose, spilling in wide blotches of warmth over his thick fur. The wolf breathed in; even as an animal, thinking simpler and in a more primal way, he felt a sting of unease, or reluctance to move at all. After all, what could the new day bring, if not more of the same. 

More pain.

The sun was so warm on his fur. It must have been already quite high on the sky. Must have been late.

_Hurry_ , the wolf thought and in an instant the animal form changed into that of a man, laying on the dark hardwood, his cheek pressed to the dirty boards. Alucard did not want anyone, the least of all Trevor, to find out that he would rather spend a night curled on the floor guarding his door than sleep in a bed, but he couldn’t force himself to enter his bedroom again. He could simply switch rooms, but for some reason he felt reluctant to do it. An idea of sleeping in a bed was somehow repulsing, and he felt better just as a wolf sleeping on the ground, never mind the cobwebs or grass. 

He listened in for a moment, but there was no sound coming from the room at all. Trevor and Sypha were still probably asleep. It was not that surprising, as they both needed rest, injured as they were, but if he could see sun in the castle corridors it meant that it was about ten o'clock. The hour was late. 

He spent too much time here as it was. Alucard got up quietly and made a quick work with patting the dust out of his clothes before he moved to the nearest window to take a look at the outside world. He squinted at the brightness of day, his eyes still teary and sleepy; he saw Ksenia emerging from the forest, crossing the meadow in a slow, uneven hobble, carrying something in her hands outstretched to the sides. After a while he realized it must have been the birds she had shot; It looked like her hunting was fruitful. 

He was ashamed of himself. The way he behaved yesterday was inexcusable. He felt pathetic. An evening ending up in a temper tantrum, a bout of tears, and a night spent on the floor under his friends’ door. He was sure it couldn’t get any lower, so he decided he might as well go downstairs and face the music. He raked a hand through his matted hair, which he didn’t bother to comb or wash in days. 

He met Ksenia outside, crossing the plane, halfway to the castle. Upon seeing him she stopped in her tracks and froze there, not sure what she should do; one of the ducks fell from her hands on the ground, as she was carrying too many. She saw it, but didn’t move to pick it up. 

Alucard kept walking steadily until he came closer to meet her. He offered a hesitant ‘good morning’, but there was no reaction. She was just staring, tense as a bowstring.

He sighed and hung his head. He didn’t know what to say. 

“...allow me to help?” he offered finally. 

Ksenia clicked her tongue silently and handed him two ducks, which she was holding by their feet. 

“Glad you asked,” she said and bent to collect the bird that fell from her grip. “Thanks. Let’s go.” 

They walked in silence, Alucard adjusting his pace to the rhythm of her steps. Upon entering the sunny, but empty kitchen, Ksenia took a surprised look around. 

“They didn’t come down yet?” she asked. 

“No, still sleeping” Alucard put the hunted ducks into the sink and wiped his hands in a cloth. “So I guess… my turn to bring some food home. A doe? Anything else?”

Ksenia bit on her lower lip, obviously worried about something. She reached for a kitchen rag laying on the wooden worktop, hesitantly glancing towards the ducks; she shook her head suddenly.

“No, it’s not normal. You should check on them, Aucard.” she said. Her brow furrowed in concern.

“They are tired. And after days of travelling, it’s not surprising they would want to sleep in.”

Ksenia did not look convinced. “I have a bad feeling. Please, Alucard.” 

He relented; he washed his hands quickly and dried them in a clean towel, and left to wake his friends, taking with himself a pitcher of cold water and two glasses. Ksenia relaxed visibly seeing him go, and went about preparing some tea and breakfast. 

*******

“Are you awake...?” he asked quietly, gently knocking at the mahogany frame. The door opened almost immediately and Alucard saw Sypha’s huge eyes staring up at him, wide awake and obviously worried. She held the door open for him as he carried a small tray in.

“God, it’s good you came,” she said quietly. “He doesn't look good at all. He’s feverish. I can’t wake him up,” Sypha all but mewled. She wrapped her arms around her middle, treading barefoot on the dusty carpet.

“Calm down, Sypha, everything will be alright,” Alucard said kindly, but his brows knitted in worry. He did not suppose that Trevor’s wound might be infected; he made sure to tend to the shoulder to the best of his ability and disinfect it thoroughly. Nevertheless when he reached down to touch Trevor’s forehead it was hot and clammy, and the hunter did not even stir. 

“Alright, prepare a cold compress for his forehead, will you? I will examine his shoulder,” Alucard said, seeing her hover above them, clearly in distress. He instinctively understood that it’s better if she has something to do; Sypha nodded and disappeared in the bathroom immediately to find a small towel. Adrian shook Trevor gently, but he was unmoving. 

“Wake up, Belmont” he muttered, patting his face. No reaction. “Trevor?” Nothing. 

Alucard raised his brows and smacked Trevor’s face non-too gently. His eyes flew open at that and he made a desperate, panicked attempt at sitting up and lashing out at the unknown opponent, but the dhampir held fast and pinned him down to the bed, trying to avoid his bad shoulder. “W-what the actual fuck…?” Trevor stammered, not aware of his surroundings or time of day, but recognizing Alucard. 

“Calm down, you’re in the castle with me and Sypha,” Adrian explained and soon felt Trevor’s muscles relax as he stared at the well-known face for a while longer and understood he’s not under any attack. He sighed with relief and slumped back to the mattress. 

Trevor’s eyes rolled back in stupefaction. Alucard let him go and brought a hand to his face again. To his ultimate surprise, Trevor leaned in to the touch and almost _nuzzled_ his palm.

“Your fingers are so cold...” he muttered in a languid voice, swallowing thickly. 

Sypha came back from the bathroom, carrying a bowl of water and a small washcloth. She put it down on a nightstand and conjured ice cubes out of thin air. 

“You’re awake,” she said with some relief. Trevor’s head tossed on the pillow, his limbs slack and lifeless. Adrian begun to undo the bandages on his shoulder, but judging from their clean state and the absence of any smell, the wound was not infected. Sypha begun to wipe Trevor’s face with cold water and he immediately turned towards the pleasant sensation. 

“What… what time is it?” he asked, taking a deeper breath.

“It’s past ten,” Sypha told him. “I was so worried, you slept like a log.” 

“Did you take any more laudanum yesterday?” Alucard asked, his voice tinged with fear. “Trevor. Focus. Did you take any more?”

“Nnno, you... dickhead,” Trevor slurred. “You told me not to.” 

Alucard sighed with relief. He recalled leaving his bag and medical supplies unattended in the room yesterday, and for a second there he froze with terror, as he realized in his stupidity Trevor could have downed all of the tincture and seriously harm or even kill himself. He felt cold sweat on his own face as he realized how dangerous and careless it was of him, to abandon a patient like that, to discard the medicines and instruments and just leave. He forced himself under control, stilled his hands from shaking by sheer force of will and inspected the wound. It was as good as it could be expected to be. There were no other wounds which could be the source of infection, Trevor’s lymph nodes were normal. His heart rate was off the charts, and the blood pressure spiking, but that was clearly a stress reaction. Alucard went over to the bag to go through the list of medicines he applied yesterday, to check for any possible side effects or cross-reactions; everything seemed to be in order. He took out a glass thermometer and instructed Trevor to stick it under his armpit.

“Everything seems to be within reasonable margins,” Alucard said slowly, going once again through his mother’s notes. “It’s most probably just your body’s reaction to finally slowing down. Your brain stopped pumping adrenaline through your veins, you relaxed, allowed yourself to rest and… it finally caught up with you how heavily battered you are,” Alucard said, putting the notebook down. “Raised temperature can appear even as a stress factor, or indeed with broken bones. Besides…” Alucard glanced at Trevor carefully, something occurring to him all of a sudden. “Sypha, how long was he drinking for?”

Sypha hesitated, looking down at Trevor, who shot her a look of mute plea. 

“Well, almost all of the time we were on the road,” she said sadly, enduring the stare. “And we spent eight days on the wagon. Most of which you were knocked out, with breaks only for peeing and stealing more alcohol.” 

Trevor groaned. If he could, he would just melt into the bedcovers and disappear, away from their scolding faces. 

“So who was holding the reigns?” Alucard asked, coming closer again to lean over the bed and reach for the thermometer.

“He was,” Sypha blurted out. “He wouldn’t stop. We were travelling for eight days straight. He would only allow Ksenia to take over when he was too shitfaced to sit up straight.” 

Alucard saw that in an instant Sypha’s eyes started welling up with tears and she had to move aside to calm herself a bit. Trevor closed his eyes and shoved his face in a pillow as far as he could; it was clear to Alucard that he just wants to evaporate. 

Adrian dared to cast a look at Sypha, who was standing with her lithe back to them, wiping at her eyes. She looked so minute, so fragile, without her baggy robe to cover her from head to toe, she was so petite and delicate. Stark discrepancy, considering the amount of power she wielded, how much brute force she could give out when handling the elements. Alucard came to an abrupt realization that he has never seen her in so little clothing before; she was wearing a simple, sleeveless white shift, which was reaching to her knees only, and standing barefoot on the rug. Her shoulders shook slightly. 

Alucard caught himself staring and immediately turned his attention to the thermometer. The temperature was high, but not threatening. All things considered, Trevor’s feeble condition was probably caused by mild alcohol withdrawal; Alucard shook his head at the man. He would eventually be alright, even if it will take more time than normal.

“Look, you are going to be fine. Fever is a fairly common symptom given your injuries, you just have to rest. Are you in pain right now?” Alucard asked. Trevor opened his eyes with a telling expression and nodded. His jaw was clenched shut. “I see. Come, I’ll help you up,” he said taking his right hand in his and slipping an arm under Trevor’s back to maneuver him into a sitting position. 

Sypha was next to them immediately, propping Trevor up with more pillows and settling behind him so that he could lean on her; upset as she was, she still would prioritize his well-being over their differences. As they were certain he was comfortable, Alucard went to prepare some medicines, and she resumed her patient administrations with the washcloth, wiping away the sweat which pearled on Trevor’s brow and nose, cooling his forehead, swiping his rigid jawline and heated, sweaty neck. Alucard expected he will tense up further, avoid her touch or tell her to stop; Trevor all but sunk into her helplessly, pushing his face into her collarbone, as if he could apologize by his gestures only, without having to say anything. 

“Take this first,” Alucard passed him a small glass like yesterday, but this time it contained a white powder mixed in with water into a cloudy solution. “It’s an antiseptic. Just to be extra careful. And this… for the pain.” 

Trevor gulped down the medicines without question. His face shriveled at the bitterness and he clenched his teeth at his stomach revolting at the unpleasant taste and texture, but he didn’t complain. Alucard passed him some water next. 

“You need a decent breakfast,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “And you have to drink plenty of fluids. I mean it. You’re dehydrated, you stripped your body of nutrients, vitamins, any useful bacteria cultures, you just flushed them all away. Your stomach must be rebelling and your liver is overstrained. Your body just can’t heal properly, it has to get rid of the toxins first. So you need water, first and foremost. Once you stop sweating, once the last of the alcohol leaves your system and the fever breaks, you will be on your way to mend.”

“I… are you speaking in Adamic again or…?” Trevor’s head lolled on Sypha’s shoulder, his eyes closing involuntarily.

“I will keep an eye on him… make sure he drinks a lot.” Sypha said quietly. She settled Trevor down gently, fixed the compress on his forehead and sat more comfortably next to him, still clutching his hand, which he held like a lifeline. “Thank you, Adrian… If it wasn’t for you, I don’t… I don’t know what I would do.” 

Alucard stared at the prostrate man on the bed and couldn’t find a suitable answer. His ailments understood separately were not particularly severe, but taken together it was enough to knock Trevor down. If they had been on the road, it could indeed be a life-threatening condition. The worst part of it was that he did a lot of it to himself, in a blatant display of a very self-destructive behaviour. Alucard watched as the planes of his chest rose and fell in a more steady rhythm, as his strong arms with corded muscles were now laying so defenseless against the white bedsheets. It looked somehow wrong and out of place; it looked concerning. 

“...Everything will be alright,” Alucard said quietly, shoving this sting of anguish down not to alarm her. “Don’t worry, Sypha. We’ll get him back to full health.”

She nodded, sniffling and giving him a small smile. Her eyes were so blue, so huge. Adrian couldn’t help but smile back for her. 

“I’ll better go,” he said. “I have some hunting to do. Ksenia organized restocking the kitchen, I promised I will arrange some venison.” 

Trevor barked with a short, strained laugh. “Not _‘that woman’_ anymore, huh?” he mumbled. 

Sypha smiled at Alucard, taking his cold hand in hers. “I think it is the first time you used her name,” she said with approval. Alucard just refused to answer and stood up, taking his leave. He met resistance. The small hand refused to let go.

“Wait… Adrian,” Trevor joined in, reaching to catch the edge of his sleeve. “One more thing… it’s important. We’ve been talking with Sypha…”

A sting of unease pierced Adrian through and through. All sorts of images came to his head, the most prominent being the back of their disappearing wagon again, but he forced a muffled ‘yes?’ from his throat.

“We think you are unwell,” Sypha took over, her voice serious. “You are hurting. It’s not like we’re the only ones who need help, and yet you do everything in your power to help us, foregoing your own needs. Adrian, I know you haven’t been feeding. So please, take my blood.” She said gently, never letting go of his hand and giving him a reassuring squeeze. 

Alucard stood there, paralyzed. 

“What?” he choked out.

“It probably wouldn’t be wise if you took Trevor’s blood, even though he was obnoxious about it. But he’s unwell, he has taken medicine, it could affect you, it wouldn’t be any good. So it’s probably a better choice if you just take mine,” Sypha explained with unabashed honesty. “Please, Adrian. You need it. And it’s not a big deal. Please, allow me to do at least that for you.” 

“You’re hurt,” Trevor said, tightening the grip on his sleeve. “You look sick. Once I get better, you can bleed me dry, but for now... listen to her. Come on, Alucard.”

Alucard could not believe it. He stood there, both of his friends holding him captive, Sypha by his right hand, Trevor by his left sleeve, both of them looking at him with worry and compassion, unsure of what he’ll say. It’s not like he should be surprised that they understood he must need blood now; he had never been hiding his nature from them, and they had never condemned it, rather they would treat it as any other necessity of life. The fact that he never took human life or done permanent harm to a human just to quench his thirst obviously was a factor in this. Alucard could even remember Trevor ask him once, respectfully and in a matter-of-fact tone, if he is on top of his game, if he had fed enough to fight and use his magic to full capacity. They were all forced to be pragmatic and non-sentimental; it was sometime in the Belmont Hold, just before the battle, when they were about to face their archenemy. But even then, as pressed by the circumstances as they were, Adrian never would have thought there will be a day when one of them would offer their blood, even to help him recover. 

He shook his head at this improbability. He felt very uncomfortable with that offer. It went against the self-preservation instinct and they must have been more scared than they let him see. Besides, he couldn’t bring himself to hurt any of them any further. Sypha’s brows knit together; she made a face as if she anticipated what he was thinking and stopped him in his tracks.

“You’re not going to hurt me, it’s alright, I know what I’m doing. It’s very simple, you need nourishment just as we do, it’s just of a different kind. So take it, I’m offering freely,” she spoke softly. Alucard tried to back off, but they held him; Sypha shifted to a kneeling position, her eyes pleading, her thin neck exposed, small bosom rising more frequently as her heartbeat went up. She was pulling his hand, pulling him towards her, soft, and warm, and inviting. She was barely dressed, Adrian suddenly remembered and his eyes widened at what he saw; the thin cotton shift hardly concealing the perfect outline of her narrow waist and her slim thighs. Alucard caught a whiff of her scent, _her scent,_ scent of her blood which was circulating rapidly now. She pulled him again and he was forced to take a step forward or he would fall; she inched towards him on the bed, her head moved to the side, exposing the perfectly sharp point where her clavicle joined the shoulder. She was all but offering herself up. 

“Sypha, stop…” he whispered, feeling a void spreading from his abdomen upwards, a gnawing feeling tearing at his insides and pulsating in his chest. It was thirst. “Just stop, please… I couldn’t in any possibility drink from you, so please stop, Sypha…” she inched closer again and he knew he has to tear away from her, he has to snap out of it _now_ or he won’t be able to control himself. “Sypha, don’t. No, just stop, NO!” he yelled, yanked both of his hands free and took a couple of steps back, gasping for breath which he was holding all of this time. 

“You don’t even understand, Sypha! I can’t,” he mewled. “It would hurt you, but not because I would hurt you, but because you’re ill. You have anemia, I could smell it from the start. That’s why you’re so exhausted, that’s why you’ve been fainting,” he said quickly, not looking at her, because he was afraid that he’d crack and yet reach for the sweet life in her veins. “It’s an ailment stemming from malnourishment and exhaustion. Your iron levels are far too low, your blood is being produced fast enough. So if I was to drink from you, it would be dangerous.” He brought his shaking hands to his face, raked them through his matted hair. He needed to calm down. 

“You… fainted again?” Trevor asked quietly in the dead quiet that followed. Sypha lowered her eyes and sighed heavily. 

“A couple of times,” she whispered. 

“And you didn’t even tell me? When?”

“I did not want to worry you. You... had enough on your shoulders.” She said, her voice suddenly colder and with a sharp, categoric edge to it. “Besides, I am not _that_ stupid, you know. I know what anemia is, this happens to women, I just need to rest and replenish. Eat red meat and legumes. I’ll be fine.” 

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Alucard sounded from afar, more composed now and ready to face them again. “And it can be a very serious condition. You need to understand, you have been operating with enormous amounts of energy, elemental power, the very strength needed to contain and direct it is sourced from your own body. It is a matter of willpower, yes, but it takes a toll. Must have been… some fight.” 

“You have no idea,” Trevor scoffed. “Well, shit. So it’s back to me, then. Alucard, take mine. Take my blood.”

“Don’t be stupid, Belmont.”

“I wanted to offer yesterday, but you ran out on me and didn’t come back!” he shouted and forced himself to an upright position with a painful grunt. “Well, tough luck, princess, now bite me!”

“You _‘bite me’_! You’re weak as a newborn baby, you could pass out just by standing up!” 

“Don’t lecture me,” Trevor grunted, scowling. “Just do it, for fuck’s sake. I’m gonna be alright. Come on; we both know you need it.”

Alucard suddenly felt a burning emotion flare up within him, a feeling that refused to be ignored or postponed in any way. His nostrils flared as he turned to Trevor. 

“What exactly are you trying to do here, be a hero?” he asked, his voice slow and full of venom. “What is this supposed to be, _sacrifice_? Or is it just another self-destructive mechanism that you refuse to recognize?” he sneered. 

“Whoa, I just want to help!”Trevor lifted both hands in the air. “Why do you have to be a dick about it?”  
  
“Because you’re involving me in a suicide, Belmont! You want to get killed, by all means, just continue what you’re doing and you will drink yourself to death eventually!” Alucard yelled. 

“Calm down, both of you! No one is hurting anybody and no one is commiting suicide!” Sypha lifted a hand as if she wanted to touch Adrian, calm him down, but he abruptly turned away from her. “If Adrian says it’s not a good idea, then he’s right, we should just think of some other way to solve this,” she said towards Trevor, but she was all but ignored. 

“Get off your high horse, Alucard,” Trevor yelled back. “Look at what you’re doing! Walking around all broody, parading these wounds that do not heal for everyone to see, making her feel like shit while she watches you suffer!”

“Trevor, I’m still in the room, and don’t use me as an argument! It’s misplaced.” Sypha forced her voice to be adamant. “This is going completely wrong. Let’s stop shouting and act like adults,” she said, looking from Trevor to Alucard, who scoffed and turned to the door. 

“There is nothing to talk about. This idea is ridiculous. And it’s not like he is capable of acting like an adult anyway, Sypha.” 

“Sure, leave, it’s easier,” Trevor barked. “Leave like yesterday, just run away! You don’t want to talk because you know I’m right.” 

Alucard spun around in an instant.

“Don’t even get me started on leaving! It’s you who left! _You_ left _me_!”

Sypha gasped. Her eyes flew to Alucard, wide open and terrified, her face shrinking in a hurt expression. It was obvious that his blow landed, but not exactly where he wanted to.

“If you asked us to stay, we would,” Trevor countered quickly, lifting a hand and stopping Sypha before she could fall to pieces over the topic. “But you kept avoiding us. You even had a plan to go back to sleep in your coffin, what were we supposed to think?” 

“Trevor, shut up,” Sypha mewled, lifting a hand to her forehead. “We completely misread what you wanted, Adrian. You were grieving, you weren’t yourself, how could you possibly be alright? We should have stayed, or we should have left together!”

“But it would have been so hard to admit that you needed someone, right?” Trevor scoffed, wincing in pain as he tried to sit up more straight. “God forbid you show any human emotion. We would have helped you, but you didn’t want it.”

“I didn’t …?” Alucard was completely taken aback. “What...? I can’t believe you, Belmont! I can’t believe the vastness of your emotional impairment, you wouldn’t notice suffering if it hit you in the face!” 

“I do notice! I know you’re hurting, I want to help, but each time I try, you fucking run! And you do the exact same thing with Sypha! So why you do it, just for show? Do you want everybody to feel sorry for you?

“I don’t have to listen to this,” Alucard hissed, anger welling up inside him and the ominous red shine flashed in his eyes again.   
  
“Oh, there we go,” Trevor scoffed. “You want something else, you want everybody to fear you. Like you tried to prove yesterday, you’re _evil Alucard_ now, so you expect us to behave like assholes, only to prove your imaginary point! You think I cannot recognize what you’re doing, but I can! I’ve been doing it!” Trevor pointed to his own chest. “You’re mad we left? Fine! But don’t take it out on her. If you want to take it out on somebody, take it out on ME! So go on! Bite my neck! Take it all! You know you want to!” 

“Trevor, you don’t mean it,” Sypha shook her head at his fallacy. “Why are you goading him? You don’t even mean it, so just stop it! Both of you!” 

“Oh, he means it, alright!” Alucard snarled at him, baring his fangs in a reflex. “He’s a Belmont! He learned all there is to know about vampires and he knows ME so fucking well! I *must* need blood, I am a predator after all, so a little blood will fix me, right?! It will make me _feel better_!”

“You are twisting what I say! I only wanted to help you!”

“This isn’t helping! Offering your blood to me *isn’t* helping! You have no idea what it even means! And I am more than what my body wants, I’m not an animal!” Alucard made a wide gesture, cutting Trevor off. 

“Adrian, please…!” Sypha was caught in the middle, unable to get a word across and completely horrified that it turned into a shouting match.

“You simply think you know what’s best for me and you want to make decisions for me!” Alucard started pacing again. “Because you saw that for once in my life I am anything but collected! What is it now the two of you are doing, _parenting_? What gave you an idea that you are qualified for that, Belmont? When you clearly can’t even take care of yourself?” 

“Adrian, it’s not like that, we would never patronize you,” Sypha pleaded, yet Alucard all but ignored her, staring into Trevor’s determined eyes with the unbridled need to lash out. 

“Speaking of parents, yours indeed must be very proud. The prodigy of the Belmont clan, the last son of the proud dynasty of monster hunters, offering his neck to a fucking vampire! What would your family say?!”

“YOU ARE MY FAMILY!!!” Trevor bellowed, leaning out of the bed so far that he would fall on the floor. His eyes bore into Alucard’s, who simply froze, his eyes wide. 

In complete silence that befell them Sypha covered her face with her hands, unable to watch them any longer, shaking in barely-contained distress.

Trevor looked like he was going to pass out.

“You are my family, I don’t have anyone else except you and Sypha,” he said with effort. “I don’t give a shit about a bunch of dead people and what they’re gonna think, because they’re dead! There is only you two, you’re the only family I got,” he panted. “I don’t care about this monster-hunting bullshit, you are not a monster, you do not fucking apply! And I don’t care you’re half-vampire. You’re my friend. So don’t make me watch you like that...!” Trevor panted in short, shallow breaths, his expression changing, wringing under the pain and stress. 

Still, he continued. “I screwed up, we both did, we left, we fucked it all up! But you’re my family and I can’t…” his voice broke. “And I cannot lose you too. And... I’m gonna throw up.” 

That stirred Alucard like a zap of electricity and in two steps he was with Trevor, lowering him down on the bed, holding both sides of his head as the man was trying to fight the waves of nausea and breathing erratically, his good hand fisted aggressively in Alucard’s shirt.

“No, no, no, keep it down, you’re gonna waste all the meds,” Alucard said, kneeling next to the bed and trying to calm him down. Sypha crept up to them, her face blotched with red patches, wet from tears. 

“I’m gonna barf all over you, you fucker,” Trevor growled through clenched teeth, not opening his eyes and panting heavily.

“You better not. Breathe, just breathe.” Alucard tentatively moved his hand to Trevor’s forehead, brushed his hair away from his eyes, and then slid to Trevor’s chest, where it rested above his heart. “Breathe, Belmont. It will pass in a minute.”

A couple more inhales and Alucard felt Trevor’s muscles relax a little, his expression changing as the breaths came a bit more steady. A while more and he opened his eyes to look at the dhampir; he was still furious, but a bridge has been crossed, a barrier broke, and they suddenly felt like the air was a bit lighter around them, like some menacing, hovering dark spell has been lifted. Sypha sniffled next to them and Alucard grabbed her hand to include her in this, to press her lithe palm along with his above Trevor’s heart. Belmont’s right hand abandoned the shirt and covered their interlaced fingers with his own.

“Better?” Alucard asked tentatively, and Trevor answered with a barely perceptible nod, still focused on breathing and keeping the medicine down. Sypha sniffled loudly.

“I am… I’m sorry,” Adrian started. “We should all… calm down. Sypha... please, forgive me. I never meant for you to cry.” 

She gave him a wet, sad look and bit down on his trembling lower lip, then glued herself to his arm. Her grip was like a vice. 

“It’s okay,” she mewled. “It was a disaster, all of it, all of… us. We never meant to hurt or anger you. Nor force you to do anything. It really is not like that. We just… we wanted to help.” 

“I know.” 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m just… sorry.” she whispered. She pressed her cheek to his arm, trying to get as much contact as possible now that Alucard allowed them to get close. 

Adrian glanced at Trevor, who was laying absolutely still, clutching at their joined hands as if terrified of breaking the contact. He probably wanted to say something, but had to keep his jaws shut. Alucard sighed, feeling overwhelmed. What was he even doing these days, these outbursts of anger were so beyond his control, so destructive. It’s not like he even wanted them to happen, but somehow they just did, time and again. He relented; not moving his hand and allowing Sypha to hang on his shoulder, he turned to the hunter.

“Trevor… I will be able to endure a couple more days with no bigger discomfort. Once you get better…” he trailed off, observing his expression. The man exhaled with relief and nodded. 

“Once I get better,” he repeated, relaxing completely. 

They kept staring at each other. Counting breaths, and holding the three hands clenched together as if their lives depended on it. Alucard willed himself to relax. He was with friends. They came back. Came back for real. Marked their presence, managed to aggravate every inch of his being, but also… came back. To him.

They cared. 

Alucard moved to lean on Sypha as well. She accepted him gladly. 

Anger evaporated completely from Trevor’s eyes, and was replaced with concern and a dose of regret. As usual, he would be sorry for the things he had said, things he had done. He kept looking at Alucard intently and the dhampir knew this is the closest to ‘I’m sorry’ that he's going to get. He took it anyway. Gratefully, even.

“Will you stomach any breakfast?” he asked him.

Trevor grimaced, but nodded. “I’ll try,” he offered. “Are you… going?”

Alucard squeezed his hand tighter. “I promised to deliver that venison. It would really do you both some good. But I’ll check on you as soon as I come back. I promise.”

Trevor nodded and squeezed his hand back. Sypha raised her head from Alucard’s arm.

“I should go get that breakfast,” she said. Trevor’s hand on top of their own clenched down suddenly, to the point of his fingers going white, and he looked at her with a very weird expression on his face, one that Alucard has never seen before. 

“Sypha…”  
  
“Let go. I still love you, you idiot, but I’m mad at you,” she said through the nose, obviously still upset. “Why it is never possible to just talk about things with you two, why does it always have to be a dick measuring contest? This is beyond me,” she muttered and went to the dresser to wrap a shawl around herself and find some shoes. “I’ll be right back.” 

The door clicked shut behind her. 

“She will fucking fry me later,” Trevor mumbled. Adrian couldn’t help a tiny chuckle at that.

“Not like you didn’t deserve this, Belmont,” he said. 

“You weren’t any better.” 

“ *I* am not her boyfriend.”

“Fuck you, Alucard.”

Trevor still refused to let go of Adrian’s hand. 

“Erm… wait until she comes back?” he asked quietly, looking up, an unknown note creeping up his voice. Alucard sat still, observing how cold sweat started to pearl on Trevor’s forehead again, in little sparkling droplets. 

“Alright,” he said in agreement, and the man gave out a small, tired exhale, closing his eyes with relief. His head relaxed further into the pillow. He must have been exhausted, and the medicaments must have been taking effect, making him drowsy. 

Adrian reached for the washcloth to wipe Trevor’s brow. The man simply let him do it, welcoming the cold sensation. The hand gripping Adrian’s palm twitched and loosened. 

When Sypha came back, Trevor was back asleep. 

*******

Alucard stepped into the warm, sunny kitchen, where clouds of hot steam were furling upwards from the sink. Ksenia stood there, elbow deep in duck feathers. The smell of scalded fat and bird feathering was unpleasant, but she didn’t seem to care, making quick work with tearing the soft plumes out and tossing them to the basket prepared beforehand. She looked over her shoulder and noticed Alucard, standing hesitatingly in the entrance. 

“Oh, it’s you,” she said with a small smile. “Where is the last survivor? Or is he more of a... casualty, now?”

“Belmont is alright,” Alucard said, returning the smile. “Alive and.. kicking.” 

“Oh, I heard,” she shook her head. “Probably they heard you in Arges,” she laughed, making a wide gesture as if to point to the whole area which might have been affected by their yelling. Alucard sighed, approaching her and looking into the sink.

“Maybe it was a good thing. It… kind of cleared the air.” 

“I thought as much,” Ksenia said serenely. “You three really needed that. I mean, Sypha is probably a fair bit upset, but she was glad that you managed to… well, at least yell about it. ” 

Alucard hummed in response. He was quiet for a while. “She was... We made her cry.” 

Ksenia shrugged, tossing more feathers to the basket. “She will be alright, she’s not a porcelain doll. It’s just she cannot comprehend you have a… vastly different problem-solving strategy than she has. Her family was always good with words.” A small smirk followed. 

“Yes, I get it.” Alucard muttered. 

“But apart from the argument, how is Trevor? Any improvement?” She asked.

“Well… no. It worries me.” Adrian sighed and started shaking his head, dispirited. “The shoulder is healing perfectly fine, but I don’t like how he is getting worse in general. He looked better yesterday.”

Ksenia shook her head knowingly. “That poor schmuck was dislodging a wedge with a wedge for so long that I really would not like to be in his shoes now. He shaking yet?” Ksenia asked, pouring more boiling water on the duck.

“Erm… no,” Alucard answered, still observing the movements of her hands, feeling slightly alarmed. “A wedge with a wedge? What do you mean?” 

“Oh, right... you probably have a different expression for it,” Ksenia arched an eyebrow. “We say someone is dislodging a wedge when a drunk person is on the verge of sobering up, but drinks even more alcohol to avoid or alleviate the hangover,” she explained. “Trevor has been doing exactly that for over a week.”

“You must be referring to ‘the hair of the dog that bit you’, I think,” Alucard answered with a polite, but humorless smile. “Indeed, a vastly different cultural reference. But what are you trying to say exactly? What is going to happen to him?” 

“I am trying to say that he will get delirium tremens,” Ksenia said somberly, looking up at Alucard. “And we better prepare. I thought for a while that he may yet avoid it... he has an absurdly strong system. But… I guess he got battered bad enough.”

Alucard hesitated. 

“In my experience, limited as it is, but still based on medical books and some field practice, I assumed it won’t be as dramatic,” he said slowly. “Withdrawal, sure, but alcoholic delirium…? He would need to drink for months to get himself into that state.” 

Ksenia raised an eyebrow at him. She wasn’t smiling.

“How much do you know about Trevor from the times before you met?” she asked.

Alucard hesitated. _Shit_. He had said it himself, _‘are you the son of a warrior dynasty or a lucky drunk?’_

“Not much… but, well… he used to be a drunkard,” he said quietly.

“So you see. Without knowing his exact history, we have to assume the worst. And he is not acting like someone who doesn’t know what’s going to happen. In fact, he has been anticipating it. I can tell he had had delirium before in his life; and it only increases the chances of it appearing with every following alcohol abuse.”

Alucard’s thoughts run rapidly. If what she was saying was true, then the worst was still to come, and Adrian wasn’t sure how is Trevor going to cope with yet another peril given his injuries. Were there relevant medicines in the lab? Will there be enough information on it? And what exactly should be done? Alucard would sometimes help his mother in her work, prepare medicines with her, visit her patients or discuss diagnosis with her, but although he was able to grasp the basics of medicine and grow a liking for it, he was hardly an experienced medic. The uncertainty must have showed on his face, because Ksenia frowned in suspicion.

“You… don’t have much experience in this particular ailment, right?” she asked.

Alucard sighed. “I am… underprepared. I have never seen it, I don’t know how to proceed. And I cannot seem to find anything of real help in my mother’s notes. I guess she was just more preoccupied with describing diseases and inventing medicines; a doctor of her position wouldn’t handle drunkards. But you, apparently, have some knowledge about it?” 

“I do.” She confirmed, struggling to remove the big quills from the duck’s tail. “It was well over the half of all the cases I had in my life. It’s pretty common where I come from.” 

“Please, explain.” He asked simply.

Ksenia braced herself on the edge of the stone sink. “The delirium usually appears about 48 hours since the alcohol supply stops. Though it’s not a rule, every person is different. And it all depends on various factors, how strong is the patient, how old, how much and how long they were drinking, you know. It can last from one night to three days, usually; in the most serious, veteran cases it develops into permanent…” she stopped, seeing Alucard’s expression. “You don’t need to know that, it’s not going to happen.” 

She paused for a while, and returned to plucking the bird. Adrian felt cold dread creep up his spine; he wordlessly spurred her on. 

“The body goes into shock, because it doesn’t know how to function without alcohol. It used to affect everything: sight, muscle movement, heart rate, perception and feeling, how the brain works, how much water there is in the body, just... everything. On top of that, in big quantities alcohol is simply poisonous. So the stomach, especially the liver, are affected, all of those toxins have to go somewhere, they need to be flushed out, but the liver and kidneys cannot keep up, as there is not enough water in. In short: everything goes to shit, because the body forgot how to function normally.” 

Alucard nodded, trying very hard to follow her explanation and not to smash something in the process. She was describing agony. He listened intently and kept comparing her words with what he had rationalized on his own; he needed to do something and quick, but the only thing he came up with so far was to recall titles of several different tomes in the library he could consult. 

“So what happens with the patient?” he asked in a voice which wasn’t his own.

“There is a possibility of... convulsions, where he can hurt himself. Trouble breathing, heart palpitation. Nausea, which is a bitch, because he needs to drink a lot of water, but he won’t be able to keep anything down. Hallucinations are very common. Seeing or hearing things that are not there, talking nonsense. Anxiety or full-blown panic attacks. Sleeplessness. Fever. You name it. It’s pretty spectacular, and we are in for a ride, because he is a big boy and trying to keep him still will be a challenge.” 

Alucard felt dizzy. He turned his back to the sink, leaning his weight on it, pinching the bridge of his nose with a shaky hand. Trevor has just called him family. He has included him on the list of people closest to him, he was afraid to lose him like he had lost everyone else in his life. Adrian felt the world rapidly shifting; now it was him who was afraid of losing Trevor. 

“Alright, you scared me enough,” he whispered. “Now what exactly can be done to help him?” he asked, balling his hands into fists. 

Ksenia shook her head, and turned her attention to the mostly deplumed bird. 

“Usually the healing aspect of it is pretty straightforward. You observe the symptoms and counteract. You wait until it’s over, mostly. You keep watch, so that he won’t injure himself, you give him water, keep the bowl ready. Comfort him. Let him know he is safe, that he is not alone. What have you been giving him for pain?”

“Laudanum. It’s a tincture based on a drug acquired from poppy seeds.”

“Mhm… I don’t know what it is, I’ve never seen it... But poppy is not a bad choice; I can also brew some hawthorn, or even better, belladonna root. If you have it.” 

“I think I might, in my mother’s lab. What does it do?”

“Relaxes the muscles, mainly. We can give him some if he’s shaking too much. It’s also anti-inflammatory and it helps with the pain, so it’s kind of useful; on the other hand, it may induce hallucinations on its own or just help them come sooner, so… well, you don’t get simple answers in medicine. It’s always one thing or the other. On the bright side, we can do a lot before certain symptoms appear. We can prevent a lot of damage. He really is in a better situation than a man who has been brought in from the field, after he suffered alone for who knows how long and has self-inflicted injuries.”

Alucard was silent for a while. Ksenia gave him a hesitant smile.

“Adrian, look at me,” she said. “He will be alright.”

Alucard cleared his throat. He had a hard time believing it, but her eyes were offering comfort and certainty.

“Have you been… studying medicine?” He asked quietly and it elicited a short, but sincere laugh. 

“No, Alucard. I’m no doctor. I’m a witch.”

“You’re not a _witch_.” Alucard winced. “Don’t say that.”

“But I’m exactly that! Didn’t they tell you?” 

“They only told me that they have rescued you in Sybim. From what you yourself told me, I figured you were prosecuted for alleged magical practices, healing people, dealing in herbs and potions, that sort of thing. And I think it was because you are not from around here. You stand out, you were an easy target. So far… everything you say seems to confirm that.”

Alucard was still standing next to Ksenia, supporting himself on the stone sink filled with stinking steam and feathers. She was looking at him intently, trying to read his exhausted, but nevertheless beautiful face; she let the duck fall into the water with a wet plomp and braced herself on the stone edge. 

“So you believe I am something of a harmless village quack, who was caught, trialed and wronged, and then rescued by a lucky chance.” She asked, eyeing him carefully. Enduring her intense, vividly _green_ stare, he wondered where is the catch.

“...More or less, yeah.” he answered. 

She bit on her lip, as if thinking something through. Finally she nodded and picked the duck up to finish.

“Fair enough. And you want me to help Trevor. You trust me enough to do it? Even though you’re wrong, because _I really am_ a witch?” She arched an eyebrow at him. 

“I’ll take my chances,” Alucard rolled his eyes. “You’re _not_ a witch. And he saved your life, so I think he’s safe in your hands.” 

Ksenia just chuckled and gave Alucard a sincere, good-natured smile. “Well, that he is. Don’t worry, I’ll help you handle it. I’ve been doing it enough to know what to do. He’ll manage, he’ll pull through; but I feel sorry for him.” 

“It’s... not like he didn’t know what he’s doing,” Alucard muttered, after a while of silence. staring into the depths of the sink. If Trevor had known what can happen if he keeps getting himself drunk and did it anyway, Adrian could not for the life of him understand his reasons. The price was just too high to pay. “I… I can sympathize, but… ultimately, he brought it onto himself.” 

Ksenia clicked her tongue with skepticism. 

“Whatever his reasons, he had enough brains not to stop drinking during travel,” she said. “If he had fallen ill on the road, he might have been done for. And if we were attacked… I don’t even want to think about it.”

There was a while of silence between them. Aucard kept observing her nimble fingers as she was turning the duck around in search for small feathers that escaped her attention. 

“So that’s why he was hurrying so much,” the dhampir muttered.

“Partially,” Ksenia said. “The main reason was _you_.”

Alucard felt his heart clench, but he didn’t answer, carefully schooling his features into a steady mask. He felt himself rapidly fall out of control, going to pieces when processing this information and everything that happened upstairs; he had to collect himself, he had to go to the library and gather more knowledge, check the lab for the belladonna root, rethink the dosage of laudanum... 

“Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes.” Ksenia said suddenly, looking him straight in the eye. His name spoken so slowly and calmly sounded so out of place that he gasped and focused at her. “Take a deep breath. One, decent, deep breath. You are not alone in this; I’m going to help you, and everything will be alright.” 

Alucard nodded slowly, taking her advice and breathing deeply; he could feel calm, warm confidence seep from the woman’s eyes, and though he couldn’t understand why would she be so calm, or where her poise is coming from, he knew that he needs to stay calm too. 

“I didn’t lie to you. It’s not going to be a nice view. But he’ll be fine eventually. Trust me on this.” 

She gave him a reassuring smile and he could only nod at that; her hands were dirty, so she elbowed him gently on the arm and he nodded again, more confidently this time, realising her clumsy effort to put him at least a little bit at ease. 

“That is a hell of a lot of work,” he consciously changed the subject and pointed towards the remaining ducks. “How many total?” 

“Four,” she answered, putting the bird aside. “And I have set up a couple of snares in the forest. I will need to check them for any rabbits later. You know… maybe let’s focus on what we have already and forego the hunting? This is enough to keep us going for a couple of days at least.” 

Alucard agreed. “I’ll go some other time. Besides… preparing all this and potential rabbits is plenty.” 

Adrian moved to the table, as if wanting to sit down, but he changed his mind and turned back to Ksenia. 

“Um, have you… I was thinking, maybe you would like to share a meal with me?” he asked suddenly. “We all are going to need our strength today.”

A genuine smile appeared on Ksenia’s face as she agreed. “Sounds nice. What would you like?”

“No, no, I’ll prepare something,” he said quickly. “You have your hands full.” 

*******

As the morning bled into the afternoon, there wasn't much of a change in Trevor's condition and Sypha dared to leave him alone for a moment, sneaking down to nibble at some impromptu lunch prepared by Alucard. The dhampir was orbiting around the kitchen, apparently not bothered by Ksenia's presence, watching her work and going through some of the medical books he managed to pull from his mother's lab. He would discuss some issues with the woman, who was now eviscerating the ducks, cutting two of them into portions and preparing the meat for storage. She would answer to the best of her knowledge; the general overlap of her experience and the information in the books was quite substantial, so Adrian grew more trustful towards what she was advising, but more than once he would be forced to dispute or doubt a notion she was quite adamant of. 

Sypha listened to their conversation with moderate interest, sometimes putting forward an example or an illustrative story which she knew from the vast repertoire of Speaker oral tradition. She was sipping on an earthenware mug of tea, holding it in both hands and taking comfort in its warm weight on her lap. 

Adrian noticed that she’s trying to distract herself from everything she had been told about Trevor and what is going to happen tonight. She had listened to them with a calm face, not a single twitch of a muscle betraying her fear; she asked a couple of questions, confirmed a couple of issues, but didn’t let them see how upset and distraught she really was. Now Sypha was doing her best to mentally prepare, drawing strength from the presence of her friends, who both knew how a thing about healing, and gathering all the strength, patience and resolve she had left.

And so Sypha actively tried to participate in the conversation and act normally. As open-minded as she was, she had plenty of arguments for and against any point they would like to make, so the discussion quickly steered away from two sides with opposing worldviews exchanging claims; it was more of a debate between scholars of almost equal expertise, focusing on comparison of various healing methods rather than their evaluation. It did something to alleviate Sypha’s unease; they did their best to focus on the positive, on the aspect of getting better and exemplifying the treatments with real-life cases and successes.

Apart from getting insight on Ksenia’s point of view, which stemmed from a completely different background, encompassing a different landscape and plant habitat than Wallachia, both Alucard and Sypha had a chance to entertain their linguistic interests, as the unfamiliar names for well-known herbs would be spoken about at length. After lunch Ksenia started to brew her concoctions, which roused a discussion of its own, as Alucard was inquiring about measurements and weights and substance quantities, a set of needed tools, which in Ksenia's case was very limited, and in his experience should be much more elaborate. Sypha watched them as they argued about the necessity, or lack thereof, regarding precision in combining medicaments.

When the brews were ready, dry herbs collected and additional boiling water prepared, Ksenia ordered everyone upstairs. Sypha looked at her, doubt resurfacing in her eyes, doubt about what is going to happen, how will they cope, how will she cope. Ksenia gathered her close with one arm, whispering something to her reassuringly and reaching to stroke her head with a motherly gesture; Alucard went ahead, not wanting to disturb their moment. It was not meant for his ears. 

*******

Trevor was still asleep, laying still and prostrate against the pillows, almost in the same position that Sypha left him. He was woken up and coaxed to drink as much water and herbal remedies as possible without inducing nausea.

He was brave at first. Tried to joke at the presence of all three of them, made remarks about how pesky they are, fussing over him and not letting him sleep, how this attention is misplaced and if Alucard will be the one to empty the chamber pot. He assured them, in his typical brazenness, how all of this will just pass without much of a problem and how he just wants to sleep it off without any audience. He was in pain though, and still perspiring a lot even if the fever subsided; but once the first waves of nausea hit him with overwhelming power, he realized that this will be happening after all and his mood darkened drastically.

The first couple of times when his stomach rebelled he got up himself, just with some help standing, and went to the bathroom alone. He adamantly refused any help, and each time he would come back finally and assure them he is fine. Sypha coaxed more water into him, but soon he wasn't able to drink any more, as the mere thought of food or drink upset him. 

The perspiration transformed into sticky, cold sweat glistening on his forehead like morning dew, and as he emerged from the bathroom for the fourth time, he swayed on his feet and caught the wall to steady himself. His eyes were cloudy as he swept a look around the room, not really seeing; Alucard, being the fastest of them, appeared by his side in seconds and wrapped an arm around his middle, preventing the fall. Trevor's head fell down on his chest; he was barely moving his legs during the short trip back to the bed.

"So I'm screwed after all," he managed to say, staring at his hands, which started to tremble.

Even if he could appreciate that he is in a warm room instead of the back of a drafty wagon, that there is a soft bed he can rest in and medical assistance he can rely on, Trevor started to realize what does it really entail and how big of a mental wall his friends were about to tear down, simply by being in his presence. From the time he was twelve no one would feed him water with a spoon, wipe cold sweat from his brow or help him through a fit of vomiting. Now that all of this was happening, he felt terribly self-conscious. 

Sypha's first attempts to console him or help out were met with dismissive remarks and cold resistance, then straightforward anger and rejection. But there was no way out now. As Trevor was lowered back on the bed again, completely exhausted after heaving his stomach out to the point of nothing more coming out, as he felt a thread of saliva cooling on his cheek which he simply didn't have the strength to wipe, his brain finally clicked. He understood that it will only get worse, that it will get ugly, and everybody, including Sypha, will be there to witness it.

Anger gave way to anxiety in an instant. Trevor’s limbs started to shake; it wasn’t just a tremor now, he was shaking, and as his heart started to beat frantically in his chest, pumping his blood much quicker. Resulting high blood pressure caused his vision to blur. Red blotches appeared in front of his eyelids, regardless of closing them or not. Serious dizziness settled and he seemed not to remember where he is, or how did he get here. 

Maybe half an hour more passed and he was reduced to a feverish, sweating, shaking ball of misery. He was shooting panicked, pleading looks at Sypha. He tried to reason with her and convince her to leave the room, to walk away, so that she wouldn’t see him like that. He argued that this will be better, that he will feel more at ease, that she doesn’t have to see this. His speech started to slur, he was losing track of thought or argumentation. He was laying curled on his good side, unable to look towards any source of light, his hands clenching at the pillow in an erratic, but incessant rhythm.

Sypha patiently explained she will not be leaving him, that he needs help, that this is nothing more than an illness, that it does not affect her image of him, that she loves him. She kept hugging him close, stroking his head, holding him steady through the escalating fits of tremors. Even if physically he was leaning to her touch as if he was starved of it, her gentle administrations didn’t seem to help his mental state. If anything, Trevor was only more exasperated, now simply begging her to leave; the pleading looks switched to Alucard and Ksenia, in mute hope they could handle this somehow. Alucard contemplated talking to Sypha, because calming Trevor down would be beneficial for the spiking blood pressure and heart palpitations, but before the dhampir managed to open his mouth, she hissed at him to _shut it_. 

“I am getting him back,” she said only. “I am getting him back, today. And I am helping him through it.” 

She hid her face in Trevor’s hair, holding him fast and kissing the crown of his head. Alucard could only admire the strength of her spirit. The evening had only started to wane, and he was already emotionally drained and clearly uncomfortable to watch Trevor like this. 

Ksenia was burning various herbs in the fireplace, changing the cold compresses and whispering something in her strange tongue in different set of varying melodies. She decided to administer another portion of her concoction, as shaking was only gaining on intensity and Trevor started to have trouble breathing. 

He uncurled from his position, now laying flat on his back taking up almost all of the space on the bed, kicking the covers off. He would catch short, laboured breaths, in between which he would try to speak or warn them about something; it was mostly nonsense, string of mismatched words in sentences without much of a grammar structure, but they were able to discern what was on his mind. The old house, his tree. Something he forgot to take from his room. Horses whinnying, stomping in agitation. Something coming, something approaching. Even if Trevor shut his eyes and kept them closed with the whole of strength he could muster, he could still see things or hear sounds, as his eyes would abruptly dart to the sides, as if looking for the source of offending apparitions. He kept his mouth open and his lips were dry and bitten as a result; Alucard was seriously concerned that he will hyperventilate. 

At some point Trevor’s eyes widened in complete fear and his attention focused on the door, which were left slightly ajar. 

“Father…?” he rasped, trying to lean out of the bed.

“Trevor, there is no one there,” Alucard said loud and clear, trying to get his attention. “There is no one near the door.” 

“Nno, ii-t’s him,” Trevor raised his hand to point at an imaginary person. “It’s mm-my father. Wh-why is… is he here?” the man asked, his brow furrowing, his mouth agape. “Is… is s-something bur… burning…?”

“Panic attack,” Ksenia said quietly, gesturing Sypha to move behind Trevor to catch him, as he suddenly started to get up. His strength returned all of a sudden and he tried to stand, possibly to come closer to the unseen person at the door. Alucard was forced to hold him down, while Ksenia blocked the view to the entrance, positioning herself between Trevor and the door. 

Trevor wouldn’t have it. He tried to push Ksenia aside with his good arm, fought Alucard with surprising force, as distraught cries started to escape him; he was convinced there are people coming, that in a while this room will burn, that they are in danger. He kept pointing towards the door, where he saw his father, kept screaming that the house will burn down. Alucard had a hard time trying to keep him still, as there were cracked ribs and a broken collarbone to look out for, so without giving it much thought he just straddled Trevor and pinned him to the bed. Not understanding why is he restrained, struggling and failing miserably to save himself or even convince anyone else of the upcoming danger, Trevor started _wailing_. 

Sypha grabbed his good shoulder and held fast, explaining that they are safe, that no one is coming, but her voice made Trevor realize that she’s in the room with them, and that stunned him into sudden stillness; he looked at her with a terrified stare of a slaughtered horse and tears welled up in his eyes. 

“Alucard… just take her and leave,” he said completely clearly, his limbs going slack in Adrian’s grip and his eyes moving to his face, which Trevor apparently recognized. “Save her… just go… take her and leave,” he repeated, his articulation slow and legible, his eyes wide open, unblinking, stunned.

“Seizure,” Ksenia said and took off her belt just in time to put it between Trevor’s teeth before his eyes rolled back into his head and he started convulsing. She held the belt down on both sides of his face to press his head to the pillow, enough to steady him, but without causing asphyxia. Adrian braced himself on top of Trevor, distributing his weight over his legs, which were jerking on the mattress with sharp, irregular patterns. Sypha was holding down his chest, sobbing, closing her eyes shut. 

After a short while the convulsing muscles started to calm, now only shaking in rough, second-long intervals, with longer and longer periods in between. Finally he stilled under them. 

Ksenia let go of the belt. “Alright, you can let him go now, slowly,” she said, reaching to lift Trevor’s eyelid to assess the pupil. She huffed something and put two fingers to the side of his neck, searching for the pulse. It was still erratic, but calming down. After a moment Trevor’s jaws unclenched a tad and she was able to gently pull the belt out from his mouth. There were deep indentations in the leather. 

Sypha was crying. 

Trying very hard not to hurt him, Adrian climbed off of the man, who was now laying perfectly still, as if dead.

“He’s reliving the fire,” he stated the obvious, completely shocked. Ksenia gave him a questioning look. “All of his family was murdered in the fire of Belmont Estate, over there,” he explained. “When the bishops decided to excommunicate and denunciate the Belmont clan. He was twelve. Sole survivor.”

Spyha keened from the bed, brushing sweaty hair from Trevor’s forehead. She looked like she was hit by a carriage. 

“He is stuck in his own, personal hell.” Alucard whispered, sitting heavily in the armchair by the fire. He felt exhausted, like he could faint any minute; a memory of himself, curled naked and wrapped in a bloody sheet on the carpet of his childhood bedroom stroke him, but he purposefully, fiercely threw it out of his mind, or else he would just go mad. He focused on watching the flames in the fireplace.

“You said this brew will prevent seizures,” Sypha lifted her head from Trevor’s chest and looked up at Ksenia. “But it’s not working. Is there anything else we can do?” 

“It is working,” Alucard offered tiredly from the armchair, not looking at the women. “It would be far worse without it.”

Sypha gave him a hurt look, sniffled, and reached for the washcloth to wipe Trevor’s face again. 

“Sypha, dear, I know it doesn’t look like it, but all in all, it’s not too bad,” Ksenia said gently. “The seizure lasted less than thirty seconds, he is breathing relatively easily and he reacted to the drugs pretty well. Him being unconscious now is a blessing. It’s better than insomnia and pain,” she explained. “He is strong. With a bit of luck the seizures will not happen again.” 

Sypha’s lips were pressed into a thin, dogged line. She looked up at Ksenia. 

“Tell me what can I do.”

The woman sighed sadly, sitting down on a small chair. 

“We have to wait.” She answered.

Alucard stared into the fire. He tried not to look at Sypha, who grabbed her head with both hands and wept, horribly, without a sound, without a single movement, bent in half on the bed next to Trevor.


	4. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I'm sorry for the longer than usual wait, there were some health issues on the horizon. Hopefully everything is ok now and I gladly present you a new installment. In last chapter I was pretty mean to Trevor, so now there is a chance to remedy it. Some snu-snu towards the end of the chapter. With this chapter we will be slightly closer to healing two of our protagonists; our soft vampire comes next.   
> 2\. Thank you all for wonderful comments! I always look forward to them. Btw, can somebody tell me if you struggle with the narrator's p.o.v.? My beta is raining fireballs on me because I apparently do it wrong.  
> 3\. Warnings for this chapter: some witchcraft, and then het, smut, fellatio and feels galore.  
> Enjoy!

*******

They would take turns keeping watch during the night, as Trevor would drift on and off consciousness. Even though he was too weak to even speak and probably not really aware of anything and anyone, the slight tremble of his limbs returned and it was potentially risky to leave him unattended. Ksenia refused to take a nap, as she was the most experienced and knew what to do in case another seizure happened. Alucard allowed himself to doze off in the armchair first; Sypha soon followed suit, laying on the big bed next to Trevor, too tired and shaken to stay awake anymore, but holding Trevor’s hand so she would wake at the first sign of his discomfort.

The room was stuffy; four bodies giving off heat and the herbs burnt in the fireplace were filling the room with a heavy scent. In his somnolence Alucard could vaguely register Ksenia opening a window; he realized that the woman is whispering something, making gestures as if chasing something away or throwing something out. He was too sleepy to understand what it was, or why would she do it. His perception was hindered, his thoughts coming and going as if waddling through mud.

The scent, he thought. That might be it. 

He could barely hear what Ksenia is saying. She was whispering something to Trevor, some short, beckoning sentences, in that swishing language of hers. She made a gesture around Trevor’s head, making a circle with an open palm, and again stood up to throw something inexistent out of the window. After that she reached for a bowl of water standing on the nightstand; drawing a little water into her cupped palm, she raised it high and poured a little over his forehead, then his heart, his abdomen, then his knees and finally his feet. Silvery droplets fell in quiet, cold splashes, soaking into the linen. 

Alucard sluggishly tried to figure what is going on. She must have been doing some witchy things. Still half asleep, he willed himself to focus and see better, hear better; she would say something again, ask a question of some sorts holding Trevor’s chin up, but this time - to Alucard’s disbelief - the man would actually _respond_ , in the same foreign tongue that Ksenia was speaking in. His eyes would flutter just a little to open and look at her, and he would _say something_. There was a tender gesture following and a quick command. One short word, at which his eyes closed again and his chest rose and fell in a steady, comfortable rhythm of inhales and exhales.

Alucard tried to move, but whole of his body was heavy. He just watched as the woman tied a strip of something red around Trevor’s wrist and gingerly put the limp hand back on top of the blankets. He wanted to say something, to stop this whole nonsense, which could have absolutely nothing to do with _healing_ , but his voice wouldn’t come up, stuck somewhere deep in his chest. Ksenia must have sensed something though, as she twitched and slowly turned away from Trevor to face the dhampir. She looked at him calmly.

Her eyes, instead of her typical green, were pitch black. And huge.

The reality slipped away in an instant and Alucard fell asleep as if commanded to. 

He woke up in the early morning.

*******

Trevor’s head hurt.

The first thing he registered was that headache. It was shooting painful ribbons of ache to his eyes and ears, immobilizing him with a tight grip of dizziness and a harsh sensitivity to light; he winced and shut his eyes, willing himself to remain still and figure out where he is by other senses than sight. 

He heard the repetitive cooing of turtle doves outside. A soft breeze would come to the room on the right, where the window was; the air would bring scents of pine, ozone and wetness. Must have been raining earlier. 

He was laying on a soft mattress, in a bed, covered in a lush, thick blanket. He could feel that the pillow under his head was a bit clammy, he must have been sweating a lot; he realized he is dressed in one of his loose shirts, which he didn’t remember having put on before. The bed linens smelled of sweat and something slightly bitter. Something herbal.

He turned his head away from the source of light and tried to open his eyes. Breaking his eyelids open through a crusty residue that gathered in the corners he saw Sypha’s face, blissfully asleep, curled on the far end of the bed, trying to take as little space as possible. She had dark circles under her eyes and smudgy streaks of dry tears all over her face. Trevor felt a heavy pang of guilt low in his belly.

“You’re awake,” he heard. Ksenia hovered above him with a tired, but honest smile. “You alright? Dizzy?”

Trevor nodded and opened his mouth tentatively to try to speak. His voice came out raspy and completely alien.

“How… how did I do?” he asked wearily, trying to smile with his eyes only.

“Oh, you were a handful,” Ksenia muttered, unceremoniously reaching to his face and lifting his eyelid open a bit more. 

“...can’t remember,” Trevor groaned. 

“Maybe it’s for the best” she said quietly, continuing her examination. “No, all in all it was not *that* bad. I have seen worse. You got off easy, sonny boy.” 

Trevor’s eyes flickered back to Sypha. There was an obvious question in his eyes. 

“Yes, she was here all the time,” Ksenia affirmed. “She loves you, you know. More than you could possibly imagine.” 

Trevor sighed tiredly and closed his eyes. “I know,” he mouthed.

Ksenia shook her head incredulously.

“Do you know what she said when Alucard wanted to coax her to leave?” Trevor shook his head once. “ She said: ‘I’m getting him back, and I’m going to help him through it’. And she did. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is. She accepts you. With all your nasty flaws and such.”

Trevor opened his eyes tiredly.

“She must have heard… things… she saw me... shaking and…”

“I get it. You’re embarrassed. But it’s only fair. Someday you will be there for her.” Ksenia spoke gently, taking his hand in hers. “If you push her away now, you might lose her. So grow a pair, apologize and just act normally. Show her some affection, she deserves that, poor thing was watching over you the whole night.” 

Trevor huffed a small smile and looked at Sypha again. His eyes were indeed full of gratitude, even if he cringed internally at the thought of everything she must have witnessed. He stared at her for a while. She looked beautiful even through her exhaustion.

“Now, Trevor,” Ksenia’s voice hardened unpleasantly. “There is one more thing I meant to tell you for a while now.”

Trevor focused his tired eyes on the woman. He knew what she meant.

“If I see you with a bottle again, you’re screwed. I will turn you into a toad, keep you in a jar on the window sill, wait until you shrivel and dry and then feed you to the cat. And you know I am not joking.”

“We don’t have a cat,” he muttered, a shadow of a cheeky smile forming on his lips. 

“I am going to get one, especially for that purpose.”

“Oh, I know,” Trevor smiled, and his pale, sickly grey face brightened a tad. “I know you could do it. And, um… thank you, Ksenia. For everything.”

She sighed heavily, looking away through the window, pondering something. Finally she shook her head and patted his hand amicably. “You have terrible memories, Trevor. Terrible nightmares. The least I could do was keep them at bay.”

“Thank you.”

She took a gentle hold of his wrist and untied the knot of a small red ribbon she had put there last night. 

“Think nothing of it,” she said, lost in thought. “You saved my life.” 

“I’m glad I did.” 

Ksenia smiled and stood up to bustle around and tidy some of the things away.

“Where is Alucard?” he asked after a while.

“Downstairs, making tea. He’ll be right back,” Ksenia said and as if conjured up Alucard came through the door a minute later, carrying a tray with three cups of steaming tea. 

Upon seeing that Trevor is awake, Adrian actually _smiled_. It was the first real smile that he showed since his friends came back to the castle, and it split his face so abruptly, so noticeably, it stood in such a stark contrast with his unkempt appearance that Trevor was taken aback. Dhampir put the tray on the first flat surface he encountered and came to sit at the bed, still wearing that silly, wide smile, reaching for Trevor’s hand.

Before he said anything, he checked for the pulse, listened to the man’s breathing and carefully studied his eyes for any signs of remaining intoxication or neural damage. Apparently satisfied with his examination he squeezed Trevor’s hand tighter and reached to cup the side of his face.

“You moron. You idiot, you jackass, you knucklehead, you utter imbecile.” He enumerated, smiling as he did so. “You had me worried there for a while.” 

“Did I now?” Trevor teased, reciprocating the grip and smirking brazenly.

Alucard reached to put a hand over Sypha’s shoulder and shook her gently. She stirred, taking a sharp intake of breath. Her eyes traveled quickly from the hand on her shoulder to Alucard and to her right, looking for Trevor. 

“He’s awake, Sypha,” Alucard said. “He’s alright.” 

She gasped and a happy smile blossomed on her tired face as she took in the sight. Trevor smiled at her, and she crawled close to him immediately, her hands reaching to stroke his sweaty hair, her lips pressing a chaste kiss on his forehead. They stilled like this for a moment, just allowing themselves to be washed over by relief, to process everything that happened and that it’s finally over. Trevor wanted to say things, apologize or give her assurances, promises, but words escaped him as she hid her face in his neck and relaxed next to him. He heard her muffled sigh - or maybe it was a sob? - and reached with his right hand to rub at her back apologetically. 

“You scared me so much,” she whispered. “I thought you’re going to die.” 

Trevor glanced nervously at Alucard, who pursed his lips tight, giving him a telling look. 

“I’m sorry, Sypha. I was an idiot. I will never do that again.”

“Promise me.”

She rose on her elbow and bore an intense stare into his face. There was a hint of tears lining her eyes, there was a lot of sheer relief there; but there was also this evaporating, retreating fear which had her on edge all night and a fair bit of hurt, and contained, withheld anger. He swallowed, feeling totally vulnerable under this stare, feeling inadequate and pathetic and just _sorry_. 

“I promise,” he whispered, failing to hide a tremble in his fingers as he brought a hand to her face and swept a strand of loose hair away. “I promise. I swear, Sypha. My God, I’m so sorry.” 

Sypha put her forehead to his, leaning into the embrace. She sniffled quietly, reaching to gather him closer, exhausted but needy, adamant on feeling him safe and whole in her arms again. Alucard tactfully retreated from the edge of the bed, allowing them space and some very much needed catharsis after everything that happened. Backing off, he grabbed a mug of tea and made for the door to allow his friends some privacy, and Ksenia followed his example.

*******

The next few days were blissfully uneventful. After the emotional carnage that Trevor’s condition brought upon them all, everybody welcomed the tranquility in their own way, and were grateful that no more surprises or unexpected disasters came. 

Alucard focused his efforts into bringing Trevor back from the wrecked state he had put himself in. He was carefully administering medicines and antiseptics, bullying Trevor into drinking plenty of fluids, preparing easily digestible meals and digging through the books in his mother’s lab to find as much information as possible. 

Thanks to this research he was able to recreate her recipe for a solution which alleviated the digestive tract and allowed for eating solid meals again; Alucard would also go through all of the herbs his mother had accumulated on the neatly organized, wooden shelves in her study and read up on the properties of those he deemed most helpful. Trevor was forced to ingest dry weed of milk thistle three times a day to regenerate his liver as well as boiled flax seed on an empty stomach, much to his discontent and despite his angry claims that is tastes like salty snot.

Trevor knew though that he would eat or drink absolutely anything to make Sypha happy. She was a calm, steady presence at his side, anticipating his every need before he managed to articulate it, but turning into a full-fledged jailor whenever he raised a single objection to Alucard’s course of treatment. She would make sure he stayed abed until his strength returned somewhat, that he ate everything he was brought, that he took an afternoon nap and had a good night’s rest. 

She had been washing him in bed with a soft, moist towel, changing the linens and re-wrapping his bandages, nestling him back into the pillows after each patient treatment so that he could sleep off his headaches and soreness. At first, when he was simply too weak to object, he would drift back into merciful oblivion immediately after she beckoned him to rest, falling asleep to the warm touch of her tiny hand in his hair, caressing him gently. After two days of strict bed regime he was able to do those things on his own, but felt reluctant to rebuff her; she needed this as much as him, truth be told.

Soon he started to feel well enough to discontinue the most potent painkillers and rely on less harsh remedies, but Alucard was adamant that Trevor should take it easy and avoid physical effort as of yet. He fretted that there was nothing they could use as cast for the broken collarbone, so there was a chance of it healing badly; even though Trevor tried to brush it off and did what he could to lighten up the mood, he was worried about it, and the perspective of losing the ability to wield his weapon deeply disturbed him. Being well aware of that, Sypha has spent a couple of hours in the library and based on more medical books specifically pertaining to bone fractures she finally came up with the best possible dressing to immobilize the limb. The arm was bandaged tightly to Trevor’s chest, his elbow in the right angle, perpendicular to the body. 

The spell of the good weather descended upon them as spring enfolded into its full glory. 

The forest surrounding the castle suddenly came to life. Sun would fill spaces between the trees, casting beautiful rays to the mossy ground. Abundance of birds would carry on with their trills, and Trevor spend his days dozing off next to the opened window, taking comfort in the warm breeze, mild, skin-warming sun and birdsong. His ambitious attempts to venture outside were quickly subdued by his own body, as he was simply too weak for that and his knees would give up after he reached the staircase. In the light of that he resigned himself to Sypha and Alucard’s care and just stayed put. 

To say his patience was tested was an understatement, but he didn’t complain; he felt guilty for causing so much trouble already. Staring out of the window at the sun-bathed forest and the protruding, derelict tower of his old home, he allowed his mind to wander, going back and forth over scarce images he had from the night of his delirium and the memories of the early years of his childhood, now coming back to him in an uninvited, unsettling influx. He hasn’t gathered enough courage to really talk to Sypha about it, even though he knew that she expected it at some point. He was not ready to find out what he had let out in the open, what kind of nightmares and hallucinations she was forced to watch. For now he just surrendered himself to everything that she felt was proper and allowed her to fuss over him, trying to shove the memories down and failing.

Downstairs, far from Trevor’s bubble of demure musings, work was whirring in the kitchen. Ksenia did her best to stock it fully with everything she could find in the forest, meadows and in the stream. 

They had nuts and wild berries now, sprouts, sorrel, young beet leaves, snow pea and pearl onion, fresh fish, game, rabbit and white meat; there was a chance finding of quail or partridge eggs. Fresh spices and herbs were drying on strings. One day Ksenia treated them to an aromatic, thick mushroom sauce, explaining that the weird-looking, porous caps of elongated specimens were called morels and were only possible to find in spring. Using only flour and water, over a couple of days the clever woman conjured up starter dough and soon enough they would eat real, freshly baked bread for breakfast. 

She cleaned the place up thoroughly, scrubbed the surfaces, took down the cobwebs and mopped the floors, and Alucard could not recognize his own kitchen anymore. It was filled with sunlight, fresh flowers and delicious scents of home cooking and cooling sourdough. 

At some point Ksenia ventured out for the whole day alone, leaving the trio to their own devices. When she returned towards the evening, humming and obviously very pleased with herself, there was a goat trotting behind her with her young; Ksenia explained that she found the animals in the forest, close to the one single human settlement she could find, sitting close to the river within a two-hour walk from the castle. She had thought at first that the goats belong to the family of the cooper living there, with whom she talked in hopes of purchasing the animals. It turned out not to be the case; the goats simply appeared out of the blue and just followed her home. It was all weird and difficult to explain - but very real in the same time and it caused quite a stir when Ksenia returned home with them.

The animals stubbornly refused to leave Alucard’s fenced-off flower garden, nibbling on his nasturtiums. He didn’t take it well. When he tried to relocate the horned nuisance somewhere else to save the flowers, the mother goat displayed a blatant lack of cooperation, simply staring at him with contempt, unmoving and chewing on the young stems; close to losing it, Alucard stormed into the kitchen ready to give Ksenia a real tongue-lashing, but he was quickly bribed with a glass of warm milk and a thick slice of bread with honey. 

“Where did you even get honey from…?” he asked, dumbfounded, meekly accepting the plate into his hands. 

“You have a beehive nearby in the forest, didn’t you know? There wasn’t that much of honey in, which is understandable after the whole winter, but the bees were so nice, very docile. They agreed to share.” She said and went out to yell a couple of sharp, nasty words in Polish at the goats, who reluctantly, as slow as possible, vacated the flowerbed and were tied off at the outhouse. 

*******

Sypha was troubled.

As grateful as she was about Trevor’s improving condition, she could feel that with every passing day he becomes weirdly distant from her. Usually quite happy to follow with hugs or caresses in private, now he wouldn’t initiate any contact, and sometimes even avoid hers. There was a broken, sad tinge in his eyes, like when she first met him in Gresit, the brusque edge to his voice, as if he regressed from the confident warrior he was back to an aimless tramp, or as if he lost something important that had been slowly sprouting in his soul during their travels together. Now it was gone, and his hard-won poise with it.

The worst part was that Sypha couldn’t be quite sure when this change first happened. Was it straight after they left the decimated town and the frightful pit behind? After he snapped and killed four people on the gallows in Sybim? Or was it when he had to swallow the indignity of going through withdrawal in front of everyone? She couldn’t pinpoint it, so she was not sure how to comfort him. 

Sypha understood that this situation cannot be in any way easy on him. She didn’t push him into talking about it. She didn’t force him to open up. 

But she had needs too. She was hurt too, and she was feeling lonely and vastly inadequate. She wouldn’t mind a hug. Or ten.

Tending to Trevor’s wounds and needs helped to combat her unease, but only to some extent. The inability to coax a reaction out of him reminded her of Alucard, and this topic frustrated her even more, because as far as Adrian was concerned, she couldn’t achieve a single thing. 

The dhampir stubbornly refused to say anything else on the matter of why he impaled two people in front of the castle. He avoided and ignored any mentioning of his wounds, which were still visibly not healing and developed a nasty, sticky sheen, as if they were going putrid. The matter of his thirst was a complete taboo. When Sypha approached the topic again, he promptly fled from her, and what hurt her the most was that he started to avoid her altogether. After being relatively accepting just after their big argument and later, when Trevor was ill, in the span of twenty-four hours he turned right back to totally shutting everyone off in terms of physical contact. So while with Trevor Sypha could at least make sure he was comfortable or on his way to getting better, with Alucard even that little bit was out of her reach.

At least the dhampir was persuaded into brushing his hair and changing his clothes once in a while. A bitter victory, because once he did, he pulled his hair back into a loose braid which only underlined his sharp features, grayish complexion and dark circles under his eyes. A fresh white shirt made his face look even more ghostlike, and as he picked a slightly more clingy garment, it was only more evident how much weight he had lost. 

His negligence towards the way he looked worried Sypha to the core. He would always pay attention to the state and quality of his clothes, he took pride of his silken hair, his most recognizable feature; to see him treat it as something that would bother or disturb him, something that needs to be managed and tied off clearly indicated a shift in his personality, a harrowing sign of depression which was only deepening with time. 

In her frustration, which threatened to burst her heart open and apparent inability to help, Sypha decided to leave both men alone for a while. 

Maybe that would be better, since they were not benefitting anything from her presence. Maybe she could try their tactic for herself and just be alone for a time. She asked Ksenia for directions to the human settlement by the river; sensing her agitation, the woman gave her a hug and pressed a small basket with leftover lunch into her grip. 

*******

Alucard sneaked quietly into his mother’s lab, closing the doors behind him in a swift, inaudible motion. He froze at the shadow of a big bookcase and listened in for a second, checking for any occupier; he had no wish for any human contact. 

He had no wish to endure any more pained glances from Sypha. He had no wish to try and accommodate Trevor’s caustic sense of humour. He had absolutely no wish to discuss anything of importance or organize anything with Ksenia. He was tired. He was sore.

He was absolutely fed up.

Frankly, he could no longer ignore what was happening to him; the wounds left after the feral silver cords not only refused to heal by themselves, but have steadily gotten worse. They were very tender, red and swollen, in some places bleeding and leaving irritating stains all over his garments. On his left wrist, where he kept picking at the infuriating injury, it started to seep with unpleasantly smelling suppuration, and the flesh underneath was badly discoloured by now. It was only one of his problems, though.

He couldn’t sleep. He didn’t feel like eating. He was constantly cold and tired, and he couldn’t quite understand why is that the case; it could be because of the more and more apparent thirst, but he had never felt it to this extent before. He felt utterly weak. Almost like his supernatural strength and constitution evaporated, leaving him simply _human_ and powerless, a brittle shell prone to breakage. 

But as much as physically he couldn’t feel his vampiric strength anymore, other aspects of him, the ones he would prefer stay buried, started to manifest. He could tell he is acting less and less like himself. Craving for blood became a factor, and he felt not as much petrified, as disgusted by it. 

He noticed it first over the unfortunate event of him crying next to Ksenia; his tears were not normal, but bloody. Adrian shook his head at the recollection. His dhampir body was all haywired; his unique situation of being a half-breed led to very surprising occurrences and symptoms sometimes. This, however, he recognized immediately. His need for nourishment weakened him badly, robbed him of strength and clarity of thought, and the more agitated he was becoming, the more he would upheave the gentle balance of his double nature. His body craved blood; it needed it to survive, to keep supporting his immortal self. But his human part, especially his human _mind_ , in the traumatized state that he was in now, would absolutely abhor the idea and it would manifest. 

It had happened to him before in the past. When he was younger. The more he needed blood, the more he would refuse it, and his body reacted by causing even more damage - robbing him of the only thing that could bring him peace, crying the blood out, making him prone to bleed, finally even forcing him to vomit it. His mother had been completely terrified when she first discovered what the thirst could do to Adrian. 

His father was simply furious that his only son would refuse blood. Defy his nature.

Adrian hated thirst. He couldn’t align his thoughts in a proper and orderly manner, he couldn’t focus on work, play or rest or basically anything. He would suffer migraine, from mild to head-splitting in the span of a single hour, light of day would suddenly become offending, hurting his eyes and affecting his concentration so he would automatically switch to a more nocturnal routine. There would be fatigue, dizziness, irritability and uneven heartbeat or swooning vision, motoric troubles, and plenty of other small, bothersome, little things; and then there would be the frightening things, like lapses in memory.

And hunger pangs. Craving. Inability to reign himself in.

For now Alucard felt the need to stay away from others as much as possible. He couldn’t focus with them in the same room. He knew that he can still easily control himself, even through the more and more appealing scent of blood that emanated from their warm, human bodies, but he just couldn’t force himself to suffer unduly. The sweet and powerful pull of blood, the thick, velvety hum of it in their veins was messing with his head; as was the deal he had made with Trevor. He would involuntarily imagine the hunter’s neck sometimes. The delicate thump of pulse underneath the surface of his skin. A hand which he would fist into his hair to position his head with a harsh pull. His mouth closing over the delicate skin of his throat.

_Fuck_. No.

Alucard pushed his back away from the bookcase. He had to clear his head, focus. 

He went closer to the long, metal-bound table in the middle of the lab, trying to figure out where to even start. The wounds were the most pressing matter; he resigned himself to trying to treat them with conventional methods, having no other alternative. He figured that he could compose a healing salve based on his mother’s notes fairly easily, but he needed to find the appropriate information and ingredients list first. He swept a look around the table, which was scattered about with books and some tools, a mortar and a pestle, a couple of glass containers, a bottle of oil. 

Sypha must have been here, he deduced.

He picked up the book closest to him. It was lying with the spine up, opened on a page about properties of aloe vera; Adrian went a few pages further, where a section was marked with a piece of ribbon. _Plantago lanceolata,_ narrowleaf plantain. Description, habitat, medical usage. Skin irritations, surface wounds, epidermis regeneration.

Adrian frowned; he began to pay attention. More books had marked pages, there were also loose cards laying about with lists of burn remedies and a basic recipe for a customizable, moisturizing salve. One page was neatly covered in small, quick, cursive lettering Adrian recognized as Sypha’s handwriting.

More information. Honey and it’s antiseptic properties. Further on the right one book, especially big, covered in black leather and with metal clamps on the sides, left open on the page describing silver burns. It had particularly nasty illustrations. This book was not from the lab; it looked like something one would rather find in the bowels of Belmont Hold. Adrian grimaced; he avoided touching it altogether.

More notes. His mother’s journal. 

_...consistent, unyielding swelling and a deep red-coloured irritation. With severe burns of this type it is possible for the flesh to start rotting and thus infecting the subject more, causing comparable symptoms to human affliction of the sort, including high fever, which is highly surprising given the vampire’s immortal and self-restoring nature. For the subject I used a cream made of a mixture of honey and wine, with added aloe extract. It reduced the swelling to a bearable degree, though the most effective cure I have found was still my blood, dabbed on the skin or ingested._

Adrian turned his eyes away. He felt weak. He had no patience for this. No stamina left to handle reading her mother’s medically rendered recollection of the day when she treated Dracula’s silver burns. 

He moved further down the table. 

A small white porcelain container caught his attention. He popped it open; there was a yellowish ointment inside, smelling faintly of honey and something sharp, refreshing, cutting into the nostrils with the unpleasant sting of volatile substances; a little bit like scent of mint would, but it certainly wasn’t mint. 

Adrian scoffed humorlessly. Sypha. Good, caring Sypha. She must have been working here during Trevor’s naps and through late evenings, trying to figure out a salve for him. Adrian shook his head and braced himself on the table; there was a very tangible feeling of guilt pressing his shoulders down. 

He tried the salve on one of his wrists. Just a dab, scooped from the porcelain jar with one finger. It stung at first; he hissed at the irritating feeling sending needles of pain into his hand, but soon a wave of relief came and he arched an eyebrow at the sudden effectiveness of the ointment. He reached to the jar again, scooped more and just smeared it all over his forearm. 

I should probably clean and disinfect it first, it occurred to Alucard as more stinging and then more relief washed over him in a calming wave. He sighed; there should be some pure alcohol on the shelving for disinfection, but he should probably pay a visit to the bath and clean himself up thoroughly anyway.

At least the salve worked. He could clearly tell the difference between his hands; the one he smeared with the ointment felt a bit better, slightly colder, while the other was still irritable and swollen hot. He examined the skin, bringing his hand closer to his nose; the swelling and discolouration was still there, but the pain diminished to a tolerable degree.

What did she put there to work so well? Adrian sighed. He will have to thank Sypha later.

Passing the table he accidentally knocked down a pile of books with his hip; he groaned in irritation at whoever laid them so dangerously close to the edge in haste or forgetfulness, but resigned himself to picking them up anyway. _“Remedies for the soul”_ , he read a title from one cover. Oh, great. _“Meditation and breath exercises in relation to self-induced malaise recovery. A case study”_. Riveting. _“Psychologius”._ Whatever that was, he had no idea. Then there were some pages about exercises for the core muscles and stretches of the upper body, which confunded him; he put them away without a second thought. He picked up the last book. It had fallen on the floor first, tumbled away and remained open on the page with a rather suggestive illustration. 

_...healing by manipulating the chi energy in Far Eastern medicine, as understood by ‘raising’ the chi; often called Fhangzang, or healing intercourse; associated with properly conducted sexual encounter and performing certain rituals to restore the balance of the humours…_

“Oh, Sypha,” Alucard muttered quietly to himself, sighing and throwing the book on the table with disdain.

He circled the table and approached the shelf next to the wall in searching for the bottle of spirit. He found it and took it with him, making it to the door. As he closed it behind him a thought occurred; suddenly a distressed frown split his forehead.

“Ugh… mom.”

*******

“...these people lead their life far away from the towns or villages on purpose. They are originally from a place near Arges, as they said. But they have moved here a couple of years ago. I think that was because they didn’t feel safe.” 

Sypha was sitting at the kitchen table, allowing herself to slump down in the wooden chair in a manner that was very unlike her. Dispirited, she was staring at a wicker cage on the floor, where five yellow chicks would sit among the hay and straws, huddled under a mother hen and squeaking from time to time. She has brought the cage back from the farm. Ksenia was absolutely overjoyed that Sypha managed to purchase the chickens from the cooper family; it meant, in the long run, a steady supply of eggs and poultry. Sypha had thanked her meekly upon return, glad to be of help, but ultimately not happy with her walk at all. She could find no solace in solitude. 

“Why? Are they somehow safer here, in the wilderness?” Ksenia asked, absentmindedly petting a yellow chick with her finger.

“They probably wanted to be left alone. The two of them are a just a regular couple, but their son... stands out. I think he is ill. They don’t have any other children. They wouldn’t want to talk about it, but I think they were escaping the suspicions, prosecution, wrongful accusations. Well… the Church, I mean.” Sypha sighed. 

“He is ill? Ill how?” 

“I'm not sure. He has spots on his skin. Big, brownish ones. Not like freckles, but rather like he had two different skin colours, coming together in a ragged pattern straight through his face, the spots are all over his cheek. So my guess is, he could be targeted as abnormal, as... not human, demonic, you name it.”

Ksenia nodded. “Yeah… There is a disease like that. I don't know much about it, and I certainly don't know where it comes from, but I am quite sure that these people are completely normal, if a little different on the outside. Aren’t we all, anyway? But your guess is probably correct. You have seen him up close?”

“Not close, just for a second. He emerged from the house and his father told him to go back inside at once.”

Ksenia murmured in confirmation.

“Oh, for crying out loud.” Sypha moaned. “Whenever I turn, no one wants to talk about their problems or find any solutions, but keeps hiding them, keeps avoiding other people, and it only makes things worse, it gets out of hand. I seem to be waddling through never ending mud here.”

Ksenia was looking at Sypha carefully.

“It’s not like they could be sure they can trust you. Why don’t you tell me… what’s really bothering you, dear?” she asked.

Sypha stared into the fire as she draped herself over the table. She put her chin on the polished wood and sighed deeply.

“I just… it’s nothing. I am still a little tired. Probably selfish. Missing my family for the first time in a longer while.”

“Selfish? You? Nah.” Ksenia sat next to her at the table. “You have been doing more than enough to take care of everyone, first on the road, when I was just a pile of shaking goo, then here. You are here for Trevor, tending to him, nursing him. You are here for Alucard, if it wasn’t for you, he would probably still be running around on all fours. So that’s not it. Tell me.”

Sypha smiled sadly. 

“I’m just… I am lonely. I’m sad. All that happened… that’s still happening, because Adrian needs help… all of it is just hard. Harder than defeating Dracula. It was easier to stand up and conjure ice and fire and achieve something. But now? My friends and loved ones are suffering, and I can’t help them, I’m forced to just watch it happen. And... I need help, too. I want to be hugged. I want to be touched. I want to feel loved. I… I need some affection, and I feel so stupid, because it’s something so unimportant in comparison to their problems, and I don’t want to ask for it, because…”

“Sypha. You are not made of iron. You are unwell too, and you’ve been helping everyone regardless, foregoing your needs in favour of theirs.” Ksenia took her hand and squeezed tightly. “Alright, so maybe you don’t have liver damage, but it doesn’t mean your issues and health troubles are lesser or unimportant. They are of a different kind, because you weren’t stupid enough to drown in moonshine.”

“Ksenia. But it’s so much more than liver damage, Trevor’s psyche is completely scarred, he’s just stuck in painful memories so badly. How can I demand anything when he has so much to process?”

“Oh? And how do you think he’s going to heal that scars, if not with you? Oh dear, you are his medicine, and he is yours. That pinhead, I told him not to treat you with distance.”

“He’s probably thinking I will demand him to say a lengthy monologue and pour his heart out about everything he went through that night.” Sypha grimaced. “But I wouldn’t. If he ever wants to talk, great, I will only love him more for it. But I know he is not ready. I understand. I wish he knew that I wouldn’t... push him.”

“I think you are putting too many thoughts in his head. He’s not really… rationalizing it as much, he’s just ashamed and unable to handle it. Rightfully so, he did a number on himself.”

“But I don’t want him to feel ashamed, I just want him to be there for me! I want him to... I want him to hold me!” Sypha shifted on the chair with irritation, straightened up abruptly. “And he won’t move close to me at night, he will only kiss me on the cheek or on the hand, like an absurd white knight or something! Did I somehow grow a moustache or turned into his mother? His caretaker, all of a sudden? I want the old Trevor back, my boorish, tactless, crude Trevor! I miss him.”

Ksenia nodded patiently. 

“I get it. You need to understand, though, as bad as it sounds, it’s not about you.” Sypha shot her a look. “In the sense that you did nothing wrong and your... image didn’t change. Rather, it is about him. He has a problem with himself, as not being good enough anymore. Touching you with the same hands that were shaking so much? Kissing you with the same lips that blurted out nonsense and horrors? Protecting you, being with you, when he was curled in a ball and petrified, and it was you who stood above him? Can’t you see? He is, after all, very… masculine. It’s quite a typical issue.”

Sypha’s small, shapely nose wrinkled in irritation.

“But it’s nonsense! I don’t mind that he needed help! Thinking like that doesn’t bring help with anything and it’s just self-destructive.”

“Hah. You are looking for logic and sense in emotional states, which are anything but. Sypha, my dear: I wouldn’t be too worried about the ‘scars on Trevor’s psyche’, as you put it. His psyche is a pretty straightforward mechanism, there’s not much to break there.” 

Sypha rolled her eyes. 

“You’re not helping.” She said, but there was a smirk on her face now. 

“So let me break it down for you. You gained his trust and respect, you’re a masterful magician and a competent warrior, matching him in ability, but in your own field. That got him interested. Then he noticed that you’re actually a very good looking woman, and when you took him to bed, he fell in love with you. And once he did, he is going to love you till his dying breath, trust me, I would know. You did nothing to alter your image, acting motherly is not wrong, and on your level of relationship it’s a very positive reinforcement. This has nothing to do with you. It has absolutely everything to do with him, it’s his image that got altered, if not in your eyes, then in his own. You want to break out of this? Just tell him what you need, give him a task to do, if he manages to fulfill it, it will make him feel better and more adequate.”

Sypha pouted.

“It’s not that difficult that I need a hug, really. He should be able to put it together on his own.”

“They never do, honey,” Ksenia laughed. “They never do. But seriously, Trevor would do anything for you, you just have to tell him what you expect. He will yet surprise you.” 

Sypha smiled shyly.

“Oh Sypha, cheer up, please. You are such a dear.” Ksenia leaned in to pull her into a hug, which she gratefully accepted. “And you helped me so much today, the chickens are great. See, that’s some real thinking, Alucard and Trevor wouldn’t come up with it if their life depended upon it,” she snorted.

“Is Adrian going to be ok with the chickens?” Sypha asked, smiling. “He had objections towards the goats, didn’t he?”

“He’ll survive,” Ksenia scoffed. “But we should probably put together a chickencoop for them, kitchen is no place to keep them, as lovely as they are now.”

“They’re cute,” Sypha agreed. 

“By the way, how did you pay? It’s not like we have a lot of money…” 

“I figured we’re not really going to be spending a lot these days, so I took half the gold we had left. And they had a problem with the leaking roof, so I fixed it for them.” Sypha smirked.

Ksenia sighed contentedly, looking at the sleeping chickens, but a small shroud of worry crossed her face.

“So… that family. They are aware now that there is a magician in the castle, and they saw me as well. Anything else they know?” 

Sypha took a deep breath, carefully considering her answer.

“I think they were aware of Alucard inhabiting the castle way before I could lead them on to something. They are afraid to get close, of course, but… I think it doesn’t bother them, they’re not the type to lay awake in their beds at night, worried about a scary vampire who will come to drink their blood. More, they might actually be glad, because the vicinity of the castle grants them peace and quiet. Same as the ruins of Belmont Estate. It’s no man’s land. Ever since the excommunication, the fields and all demesne has been all but abandoned.”

“What about the night creatures? Are they not afraid of these? They don’t blame any strange occurrences on Dracula’s castle?”

“They were bound to have had encounters. But... I honestly couldn’t say. They were very calm about it all.” Sypha’s brow furrowed. “But now that you mention it…”

Ksenia sighed and yawned quietly, rubbing at her eyes. 

“That’s one interesting family, and they are hiding something for sure, but there’s no point in worrying. Should they want to spread the word and come here with pitchforks and torches, they will, but… somehow they didn’t seem threatening.”

“Yeah… a quaint, pleasant couple.” Sypha agreed. “Did you see Alucard today?” she asked all of a sudden.

“No, not even at breakfast” the answer came. “He was very elusive.”

Ksenia thought that Sypha is going to get gloomy again, as she was seriously concerned about the state Alucard was in, but her brow furrowed in an expression of intense thinking that had no indication of worry. She bit on her lower lip in focus as she would sometimes do when trying to decide upon something and her eyes wandered involuntarily to the mantelpiece, where the two dolls were still sitting.

“Do you still have that needle and thread somewhere?” she asked. 

Ksenia got up, handed her a kit from one of the kitchen drawers and settled for making some tea. Sypha got to work with enthusiasm; she didn’t really need to say what she’s making, as it was pretty obvious. A small roll of white cotton wrapped in twine became the head, and loose strands of hay acted as blond hair. Two copper buttons were sewn on to act like Alucard’s eyes, the elongated body and two thin legs were made out of a black sock. Ksenia cut out a piece of the fresh kitchen cloth for the staple white shirt. 

“I thought I can see a little… spark of energy in him, maybe? Alucard really got it together for Trevor. But now that there is no immediate danger, all I can feel from him is a void. Again.” Sypha muttered, focused on sewing the head of the doll to the torso. 

Ksenia nodded sadly, checking on the kettle.

“Can’t you do your witchy things to read him like you read Trevor?” Sypha smirked. 

“Ooh, not a chance.” 

“Why? Because he’s a dhampir?” Sypha asked, suddenly curious.

“No. Because I’m scared to try,” Ksenia admitted. 

Sypha blinked a couple of times, staring at her in disbelief. 

“But… he is not dangerous. Are you afraid of him?” she asked seriously.

Ksenia shook her head no. “Sypha, ‘afraid’ is not the good word here. But I don’t look forward to provoking his anger, either.” 

Sypha shook her head and returned to sewing. 

“Is that why you agreed to sleep in the camp? That is incredibly unfair and don’t tell me otherwise. After everything you have done… No, I am having a word with him.”

“Leave the man be, Sypha.” Ksenia put a mug of hot tea in front of her. “I am not camping anymore. He let me stay here straight after that night of Trevor’s illness, so I did.” 

“Where? Do you have a room now?” Sypha lit up in a smile. “Finally! Can you show me?”

“Right here.” Ksenia pointed at the back of the stove. 

There was a narrow niche behind it, close to the wall, usually meant to keep firewood in. Ksenia has apparently swept the place up and nested it with blankets and pillows to act like a bed. Sypha blinked in surprise; she was obviously thinking that’s weird.

“But… why wouldn’t you… use a real bed?” she asked, dumbfounded.

“This is how I always slept in my home, back in Poland. This is how my mother slept in her time. It’s the cosiest place in the whole house, and a blessing in winter. It is probably less known to your people; but in small houses of peasants of Poland, where the kitchen was the biggest, sometimes the only room in the hut, everybody would sleep there, behind the brick stove.”

Sypha’s lips came together in a perfect little ‘o’ when she understood something. 

“Oh I see, normally the fire would be kept in the kitchen all day, and in the evening, even as it would die off, the whole stove would still be warm and keep you cozy all night,” she said.

“Exactly. And the winters can be quite severe in Poland, too. So this is why, and… Alucard said I can pick any place. So I did.” 

“It reminds you of home,” Sypha whispered, glancing at the other woman with fondness.

Suddenly there was a noise coming from inside of the castle, on the corridor adjacent to the kitchens; they could hear slow, heavy steps approaching. The two glanced towards the door; in the dim light spilling from the room to the empty passageway a stoop-shouldered silhouette appeared. 

It was Trevor; he stopped there to lean on the doorframe, a little out of breath and with worry written all over his face.

“There you are, Sypha,” he said quietly. She shot him a surprised look from her seat. 

Trevor fell silent, not exactly knowing what to say or do next.

“I was… I was looking for you. I was worried, I haven’t seen you all day.” He said, stirring finally and coming closer to sit at the table. 

Ksenia shot Sypha an arched, appreciative eyebrow as she moved to make Trevor some space and pour a cup of tea for him as well. As she moved behind him, she mouthed a silent ‘told you so’ to Sypha, who did her best no to smile. Trevor sat down and glanced with timid interest at the small doll Sypha was holding in her fingers. 

“I went for a walk to the settlement by the river. There is a cooper living there, with his family. They sold me some chickens. The weather was so beautiful, I thought some time outside will make me feel better. You needn’t have worried,” Sypha explained, picking up the white strip of fabric and trying to fit it over a doll to fashion a shirt. 

Trevor knew right out something is the matter; mulling over her unnecessarily polite answer, he glanced at Ksenia looking for help, but the woman spurred on her heel and pretended to check if the chickens are asleep.

“You’re making Alucard?” Trevor tried, looking back to Sypha and the doll.

“Yup. I wanted to cheer him up.” She answered. 

There was a moment of tense silence, where Sypha continued to fuss over the shirt, Trevor blew air on his mug and Ksenia did absolutely nothing to alleviate the stiff air. It was quickly becoming uncomfortable, but Sypha took her sweet time with the shirt. Once she figured out the collar to be exactly pointy like she intended it to be, she slowly picked up the needle, never looking at Belmont.

He shifted uncomfortably. Sypha could almost see the heavy gears turning in his head, as he pondered what the hell was going on and how he can somehow remedy it. 

“He needs a sword,” Trevor said finally with some effort. “Would you like me to make him one?” 

Their eyes met. 

“Yes, I would.”

Trevor smiled tentatively; Sypha responded with a beautiful smile of her own. The tension was suddenly gone, as if it evaporated. Trevor sighed with relief; he asked Ksenia to pass him a small piece of wood from the pile next to the stove and a sharp knife and he began carving a sword clumsily. It was a very simple design for a pointy stick, crooked in a couple of places where the wood was slightly warped. Sypha finished fumbling with the shirt, and they also came up with the improvised belt made from a piece of wire to hook the sword on it. All in all the similarity was visible, and they were pretty proud with the finished result. It was something they had done together, as best as they could given the scarce materials.

Trevor deduced from the small, content smiles, quick looks and fleeting touches of Sypha’s hands on his own as they were working on the doll that he did well and this was what Sypha wanted all along; them doing something together. He felt a painful prick at his conscience, but seeing her face smiling down at the small doll they created he shoved it deep down to fret about some other day. 

The trio finished their tea, sat Alucard on the mantelpiece next to his companions, and then Sypha took Trevor by the hand to lead him to their room.

*******

Sypha’s hand brushed on Trevor’s backside as they were walking up the stairs.

It was a complete accident, of course. 

But then as they halted on a second landing to allow Trevor to catch his breath, she would encircle his waist with one arm gently and beckon him to lean on her ever so slightly. Just in case, to catch him should he feel faint, but the lean fingers digging into his left hip seemed a tad too intrusive. And as they entered the bedroom finally, she closed the door a bit too early, so that she bumped into Trevor and he could feel her warm body pressing to his back for a split-of-a-second longer than he would if that was really accidental. 

Sypha wanted something. And to Trevor’s ultimate surprise, it wasn’t talking.

“Are you… are you alright?” he asked stupidly. “Is everything okay?”

“I should be asking you,” Sypha murmured, seating him on the bed and walking towards the desk to light some candles in the darkish bedroom. She made a tiny flame in between her thumb and an index finger and moved it close to each candle in the holder. “I was indeed gone for the better part of the day... Did you catch some sleep in the afternoon?”

“A little,” Trevor lied. “But I feel much better, Sypha. I should get up more.”

“You should let your collarbone heal. Be patient; a couple weeks of rest won’t kill you, you know.” She smirked, closing the drapes, but leaving the window slightly open to allow for fresh air. “Do you want me to start the fireplace?”

Trevor hung his head.

“Sypha, drop it. You’re not my servant. Come here.”

She looked at him for a while with an unreadable expression on her face, but then, as if coming to a decision, she moved in to kneel on the floor between Trevor’s legs, supporting her elbows on his knees and gluing her beautiful blue eyes into his. His lips parted in a gasp and he tensed a little at her sudden and bold proximity, but as she gave him a reassuring squeeze on the knee and a small, encouraging smile, he he got it together somehow. 

She patiently waited for him to speak up, settling for taking off his shoes. He wanted to protest, but she patted his hand away unceremoniously and pulled at the high boot, first the left, then the right. She aligned them at the foot of the bed and returned to her previous position, rubbing his ankle with one hand and staring up at him.

Trevor sighed deeply.

“Listen, about that night…”

“Trevor. Don’t.” 

He looked down in confusion.

“You don’t want to talk about it?” 

“I do, but not now. Not like this.” She shook her head at him. “At some point you will feel like telling me about it, about any part or aspect of it, and I will listen to you, I will be there for you just like I was back then. And I will never, ever think lesser about you for it. Quite the opposite. But I clearly see it is too much for you now, this is still too fresh, and I hate to force you.” 

“What? You always force me to talk about _feelings_.” He pouted. “This is a trap, I just don’t see it... You set a trap and I am somehow walking straight into it.” He bent down to press his forehead to hers. 

Sypha smiled widely, closing her eyes at the pleasant contact she craved so much, squeezed both his knees a bit tighter. “I may have coaxed you into sharing things a couple of times in the past… but that’s because it’s good for you, and you need to socialize. You were a complete savage before I started working on you.” Sypha’s fingers started to draw small circles under Trevor’s right knee, creeping slowly down his muscled calf. “But this is different. I don’t want to hurt you by being impatient.”

“Impatient, huh?” Trevor mumbled fondly, reaching to clutch at Sypha’s arm with his good hand and stroking it with his calloused thumb. “I think someone is being quite impatient here.” 

“Nonsense. I was very good and respectful of your personal space up till just now.” The other hand joined in the pattern drawing, but going from the ankle up.

“Sypha, what’s going on?” Trevor smirked, sitting up straight. “Not that I mind, but... what are you doing?”

“You must have a pretty good idea about what I am doing.” Sypha inched closer, forcing his knees apart more with her body. He drew in breath and his brow furrowed slightly; she could feel him hesitate, but not move away.

“You were upset with me earlier.” He stated cautiously.

Sypha took a deep breath and dug her fingernails into his legs. “I was.” She whispered. “I am feeling lonely. Downbeat. But... you needed space, so I gave you space. There was nothing I could do today to help you by sticking around... so I went for a walk, to do something productive and kill some time before you would need me again.” She explained.

“Need you again?” Trevor gasped, and reached to brush the side of her face with his knuckles gently. “My God, but I need you all the time now. I thought you had enough of me.”

Sypha shook her head. “Enough? I feel like I miss you even if I’m sitting inches away from you.”

Trevor looked down at her, not understanding. He bowed again, to close the distance between them, to pull her closer.

“Why…?”

“You have a lot on your mind lately. You’re absent. And… strangely non-physical.”

Sypha could swear that this remark caught him off guard, as his breath hitched and he blinked rapidly. He shifted his position on the bed, suddenly aware of how close Sypha’s face is to his privates. She refused to budge, though; making Trevor blush was probably her favourite pastime in the world and she wouldn’t waste a single occasion presented to her. 

Given how crude he could be on a daily basis, Sypha had assumed that Trevor Belmont would be equally indelicate in the matter of sex. How huge her surprise was when she found out it wasn’t the case at all. He was hardly a virgin, but his scarce previous encounters had been rather brief, matter-of fact attempts to blow off some steam and move on. Trevor has never experienced a considerate lover before Sypha approached him, so her attentive, deliberate caresses during their first night together stunned him speechless and made him reciprocate with tenderness and bashful honesty she would never have suspected him of.

During that starry night, laying on the sheepskins at the back of their wagon naked, hot and spent, Trevor was completely dumbfounded at the previously unknown pleasures of sex and straight up terrified, as he realized he could have hurt Sypha with his inexperience and haste. Even if she assured him it was quite alright, that he did well and was, in fact, very gentle about it all, he kept gathering her close in a crushing embrace; as if he realized he had found something precious and was terrified to be bereft of it.

He never quite got rid of this beckoning, small blush whenever she caught him by surprise; even if he became quite a confident lover, he would still allow Sypha to take the lead once in a while and show her his coy side. She was the only one to know it even existed.

“So, what... does it mean that… you want me to get physical?” He whispered, his hand burying in her hair, his fingers scraping her scalp just a tiny bit, so that she could feel it there. 

“I’d love to.” She pushed his knees further apart, never breaking eye contact. 

He swallowed thickly. Sypha could feel his heartbeat rise and his breath quicken.

“So you still want me…?” he whispered barely audibly.

Sypha’s heart missed a beat.

“I want everything that you are,” she said seriously. “Do not ever doubt that.” 

Her body sprung forward to capture his lips in an urgent kiss. She abandoned his legs to grab at his shoulders instead, to roam the broad back, to encircle him with her hands as tight as she dared to without causing him any discomfort. Trevor reciprocated, gathering her closer, his big, wide palm sitting at the back of her neck. There were all sort of things in the air between them. Relief. Need. Haste. Fear.

Fear of moving too slow. Fear of giving too little. 

Sypha started to tug at Trevor’s shirt, her small fists clenching at his back. He gasped for air, breaking the kiss; she bit down his lower lip, sucking at it gently. A completely debauched sound escaped him and his good hand wriggled underneath her blue robe and the tight-fitting black blouse to touch bare skin. She let go of his lip, hissing at the intrusion, as his hand was cold; her own hands moved up to grab and pull at Trevor’s hair.

“Sypha…” the prominent Adam’s apple in Trevor’s throat moved up and down as he swallowed loudly. His body reacted to her closeness, and involuntary spirals of heat shot straight to his groin as he watched her kneel between his legs, tight as a bowstring, draped over him. Her face was getting rosy in the dim light. His right hand traveled from the soft, warm, prominent dip of her waist to her lean back, desperate to _feel_ her skin, to cover as much area as possible; with a needy sigh he leaned down again, forcing his arm further underneath her clothes, wrapping it around her tiny waist and hugging tightly. Sypha bent back, allowing him to uphold her like that, revelling in the feel of a strong, muscled arm keeping her steady. 

She opened up for his kiss again. This time it was demanding; his tongue invaded her mouth, chased all conscious thought out of her head, tranquilized her like a drug. His breath was hot on her face. _Yes_. Her hands in his hair tightened. _Yes. Trevor_. His tongue swirled around hers, hot and moist, forcing her to lean back even more.

_Yes. More._

After what seemed like an eternity he withdrew. His eyes were cloudy, dilated slightly. Speaking volumes about how he needed her. Wanted her. Their breaths mingled; Sypha’s eyes fluttered closed as she started to nuzzle the side of his stubbly jaw, her hands slid down from his hair to tug at his shirt again.

“God, you still want me.” He breathed to her ear. “I don’t deserve you.”

Sypha pulled at the garment. It gave way, springing free from the waistband of his pants.

“You, Trevor Belmont, are clearly overthinking this,” she whispered.

“Probably.” 

“I forbid you to think anything from now on.” Both of her hands slid underneath his shirt, pressing at his sides gently, venturing higher to the broad chest, still wrapped up in bandages. 

“You got it. Brain-damaged servant.” He panted into her neck.

“I love you. And I have been _good_ to you.” Sypha all but purred; she pressed her hot palms to any swathe of skin which was not bandaged; slid it up and down his sides, teased his nipples, dragged her nails to his protruding shoulder blades. 

“Too good, remember?” He gasped.

“And I will be *so* good to you tonight.” 

Trevor’s breath hitched, as he felt the hands to come back to his chest and push him to lay flat on the bed. His back hit the mattress, and he inhaled sharply looking at her beautiful face surrounded by short, unruly locks, copper in the dim candlelight; she climbed on top of him, straddling his hips and pushing her robe up her legs, and he could feel the softness of her thighs and heat emanating from her through the layers of their clothing. She rolled her hips with a devilish smirk, grinding her crotch to his, pressing down his manhood and keeping one hand pressed to his chest for stability and control. 

“That’s cruel,” he choked out, a wave of tingling, toe-curling pleasure ripping through him at the hot contact of their bodies. 

“Too bad. You see, I intend to kill you with kindness,” Sypha whispered, leaning to his ear with a mischievous smile, rolling her hips again, harder this time. He couldn’t hold back a grunt. 

She mouthed his name, looking down at him, her flushed face inches away from his; the soft sound went from his ears straight to his groin, and he felt himself twitch under her, his cock in full swell. An approving smirk morphed into a full smile as she took in his expression, full of want, of need, begging her wordlessly to go on. Trevor’s right hand escaped from underneath her clothes as she pushed him down the bed and was now touching her neck, his coarse fingers trailing featherlike patterns on her nape and sending rivulets of pleasure down her spine. She trembled at this sensation, her small shoulders coming together in a strong, full-body shiver.

Her hands moved shakily to remove his nightshirt completely; due to the disabled arm, Trevor could only wear one sleeve properly, so the other half was just draped over his shoulder. Untucked and disheveled as it was, it didn’t take long at all to undo it. Trevor managed to lift his torso from the mattress slightly and Sypha tugged on the other sleeve to remove the garment, then simply tossed it on the floor.

The bandages still formed a tight vest around his ribs and a better part of his upper body, so they both laughed briefly at how little the undressing did to actually undress him, but Sypha didn’t seem disheartened. She leaned in to pepper small kisses on his neck and the healthy collarbone, and he locked her in a tight embrace with his right hand again, pressing her down to his body to feel her small, soft breasts.

“Your ribs,” she said hurriedly, afraid to put too much weight on him. “Careful”.

“I’m fine.” Trevor rasped. “Just kiss me.”

She complied happily.

Trevor’s legs tensed from his buttocks down to the calves as he felt a soft hand worm its way down to his crotch and a single finger toy with the waistband of his pants. Heat pooled low in his belly; from her position, pressed tightly to his chest, Sypha could not angle her wrist enough to do much, but the promise of the touch was there. Her hand cupped him through the linen and fondled his testicles tenderly, and he involuntarily closed his eyes in pleasure.

Trevor once again marvelled at how quickly she learned what he liked and disliked. They haven’t been sleeping together all that long, but she seemed to know exactly where he was most sensitive. He stifled a moan as her fingers tightened slightly; the pressure was just enough, bordering on too much for a second, and then her fingers returned to their tender pace.

The waistband tightened as she pulled at it, and he released her a bit so that she could dip her palm lower into his pants. 

The touch felt hot, impatient and absolutely divine as she wrapped her slim fingers around his length. Trevor’s eyes closed involuntarily, and a loud gasp broke free. Sypha settled for massaging at first, just fondling him languidly, craning her neck to kiss him wetly at the hinge of his jaw. He drew breath as she sucked there, starting to go lower, pressing kisses and licks and tiny bites along his neck, shoulder, then on the plane of his pectoral. She stopped briefly to worry his nipple and close her lips around it, but as he wasn’t particularly tender there, she just gave it a couple of brief licks and moved lower. Her hand tightened around him suddenly and she pumped his length once, then twice. 

Trevor grunted at the abrupt, intense pleasure and arched off the mattress, his hand clenching at the robe on Sypha’s back. She wasn’t stopping her voyage down, skimming hot breath over the bandages on his ribcage, and Trevor understood what she was aiming for. He made a move as if he wanted to stop her; he meant to tell her that it would be asking too much, that it’s fine, but noticing his expression Sypha pumped him again, flicking her thumb over that hypersensitive patch of skin just below the head of his penis and it shut him up effectively, as he could do nothing else than just buck hopelessly into her hand. 

She wriggled free from under his right hand and slid from the bed to kneel on the floor again. Trevor lifted his shoulders from the mattress, but she stopped him gently with an open palm pressed to his stomach. She smiled sweetly; Trevor reached to cup the side of her face and caress her cheek, and she kissed the inside of his palm affectionately. 

“Lay back. Relax, Trevor.” she whispered.

His eyes were cloudy with desire. He relented, laid down and relaxed his shoulders, but it was suddenly all not enough, because he stopped seeing her - and he wanted to see her face so badly. He craned his neck to look down; it was this exact moment she chose to free his penis from the confinement of his breeches, and Trevor suddenly fought for air as he took in the sight of her girly face and wet, peachy lips so close to _him_. She wrapped her fingers around his length again and pressed a quick peck to the head. 

He threw his head back and tossed it on the mattress. 

“Sypha… !” he moaned, not really knowing what it is he is saying, is it asking for more or for her not to stop, but he was hard and throbbing in her hand and he knew that if this goes on much longer he will simply come undone. 

Nimble fingers locked themselves steadily at the base, while Sypha leaned in and ghosted a breath over the length of Trevor’s penis. The first lick to the side left a scorching hot trail; the second alleviated the heat slightly, but only minutely, as the gentle hand started to move in a small, tugging motion. Combined with Sypha’s mouth closing over his flesh finally, it was too much altogether and Trevor moaned much louder than he wanted.

His hand was itching to grasp at Sypha’s hair; as she joined in with her tongue swirling around him in a irregular rhythm, his hand moved on its own accord. He buried his fingers in her short, messy curls. He wished he had both of his hands free. 

Sypha’s head bobbed slowly, as her dainty hand resumed the travel. It wriggled down to grab underneath Trevor’s knee and knead the tense flesh of his calf; the other palm was still grabbing the base of Trevor’s member to press slightly at the veiny underside. The weight of Trevor’s hand felt hot and heavy in her hair; as she employed a well-practiced sucking motion, it tightened compulsively, and she knew she has him just where she wanted to. 

His body tensed all over; he was still craning his neck, pressing his chin down to his chest to be able to see her, but his eyes were closed and his brow furrowed. His breath was stuck in his lungs, all of his mind focused so completely on what was happening that he momentarily forgot how to breathe. Sypha huffed through her nose with mirth and reached to press a hand to his stomach again, what caught his attention; he looked at her through half-lidded eyes, his frown deepening. Sypha withdrew her lips, stroking his member with her right hand instead.

“Breathe,” she told him, looking into his hazy, a tad confused eyes. “Breathe, Trevor.”

He couldn’t. Not with her huge eyes, veiled with desire, her bruised lips glistening with saliva and precum, not with her tiny hand wrapped tightly around the base of his cock. She will be the end of me, he thought vaguely, hearing only the thrum of blood in his ears and a hammer of his heart behind his sternum. Sypha smiled sweetly and took him into her mouth again in one go. 

He felt the hotness engulf him again; it was almost unbearable and his head fell back on the mattress with force. He let go of Sypha’s hair and grabbed the bed linens in a fist, not knowing what else to do; he felt the roof of her mouth rub against his sensitive head, linger there for a couple of precisely measured thrusts, her tongue swirling again around him, then lapping at the frenulum. He bucked his hips, unable to steady himself, and her free hand rested at his hipbone to pin him to the bed. Trevor could feel a smirk forming on Sypha’s lips; she positioned herself differently, braced herself slightly higher and then lowered herself on him; the soft and supple walls of her throat closed around his length. 

Trevor’s back arched from the bed sharply, a loud groan tore from his throat; she took him in so deep that her small, pointy nose landed in his pubic hair. Sypha withdrew, breathing in carefully through her nose, and gulped him down again. And again. And again.

Trevor knew he’s done for the second her impossibly big blue eyes opened and she peered up at him from her position, still swiftly sliding up and down his length. Her hair was tousled and falling into her face, her lips so red, her cheeks so flushed, and she looked so _indecent_ \- so _gorgeous_ \- that his resolve failed him completely and his chest started heaving in anticipation of an orgasm, building from the tips of his toes, from the roots of his hair, flooding the whole of his body to his middle, to his core. Blinding sensation erupted and all he saw for a while was black.

He didn’t even need to warn her. She knew. She could read him as an open book, the small involuntary twitches of his abdominal muscles, the rigid clench of his powerful thighs underneath her, the almost painful frown that appeared on his face, the subtle ‘o’ that his lips formed. He came into her mouth with force, and she kept him pinned down with both hands, rocking with him back and forth as the waves of pleasure tore through him, drinking at every drop of his release. Somewhere through it he let go of the bedsheet and clamped his hand on her shoulder, gripping it with bruising strength; his torso lifted from the mattress, arching upwards. Now, as he froze, exhausted and spent to the point that he was almost lightheaded, all of his strength abandoned him and he just fell flat on his back, eyes closing, breath escaping him with a long, moany sigh. 

He could feel Sypha swallow around him and delicately back off; she didn’t move from her spot though, even if his fingers tugged at her robe to urge her up. He was still twitching. She stayed close and kept lapping at the slit on the head of his penis until she was satisfied that he calmed down enough and went a bit softer in her gentle grip. She placed his member delicately on his thigh and only then climbed up on the bed to snuggle close.

“God, Sypha,” he mewled, gathering her close. “Sypha, I…”

“Shush,” she whispered, caressing his cheek and placing a row of small kisses on his temple. “Don’t say anything.”

He obeyed. Sticking his nose in the crook of her neck, he allowed himself to catch a minute; he could feel her warmth, steady and reassuring hum of her breath, evident sound of her heartbeat. Trevor pulled her closer, relishing the soft, fleeting touches and the affectionate kisses she bestowed upon him. She was running a hand through his hair, gently scratching his scalp the way she knew he liked; with minute shushing sounds and well-placed wet kisses she beckoned him to relax, to release the build-up tension in his limbs, to unclench his tired muscles. Trevor sighed, feeling his breath slow down a bit; he let his eyes drift shut for a second.

After a minute or two he realized he is completely drained. He could feel a faint scent of his own sweat in the air, and the potent pull of sleep descended upon him from the corners of his foggy mind. He had spent an hour looking for Sypha before, in the library, the lab and some of the smaller offices before he decided to venture downstairs; he was still weak like a kitten, unable to ascend the stairs without catching a break. And after what she just did to him… Trevor realized somewhat bitterly that he will simply not be able to get erect for her again.

Sighing into her shoulder, he looked up slowly and searched for her eyes. 

“Sypha, I would…”

“Trevor. Rest. Just relax.” Her eyes were half-lidded; two deep pools of dark blue.

“But… what about you…?” he had to mumble towards the end as she put her fingers to his lips to stop him from talking. She placed a kiss on each of his eyelids, closing them, and then one on his forehead.

“I assure you, this is exactly what I wanted.” She murmured. “Let’s go to sleep.”

Trevor smiled, looking at her. How beautiful she was. 

“Tomorrow, then.” He said.

She smiled with affection and nodded. Kissing him languidly once again, she hoisted herself up and disappeared in the bathroom for a second; she came back with a wet cloth, cleaned Trevor up gently, disentangled his pants from around his ankles to hang them on the back of the chair and pulled at the bed covers, as he sloppily got up on his knees and one elbow and crawled his way up to lay down properly. She tucked him in first, then undressed unhurriedly, down to her scanty cotton shift. 

She reached for a brush from the vanity and run it through her hair. Just enough to straighten it, without fussing too much. She sighed contentedly and moved to put out the candles.

“Hey... Sypha,” she heard a small voice from the bed. “Do you think… you think we’re going to be alright?”

She hesitated for a second, hovering above the last lit candle. This little voice coming from Trevor, his quiet question pertaining to so many possible things, was hanging in the air; she was almost afraid to move not to scare away this moment, now that he dared to open up a sliver. It was just sitting there between them, this raw uncertainty and fragile hope, like a small, frightened animal, ready to dart at every false move.

She gave him a long glance. He wasn’t looking at her, but judging from the tense way he kept himself carefully still, he awaited her answer like a life sentence.

She smiled at him and tilted her head a bit.

“Do you have any doubts?”

Trevor looked at her; she was standing there, her silhouette lighted with the only remaining candle, dressed in white, so petite, yet so resilient. Smiling at him with warmth in her eyes; warmth which was genuine, sincere. Promising safety. Offering affection. 

His light. The unexpected force of good in his shitty, degrading life, a light that stubbornly refused to leave his side.

Suddenly there was a painful lump in his throat and he couldn’t speak. He reached for her with his right hand and she left the candle alone to trot to his side, wriggling into the bed and tucking the covers around herself. She snuggled to his side, hooking a knee over his legs. 

“Hold me?” She asked, and he did, burying his nose in her strawberry blonde hair. “All night?” He nodded.

They heard first sounds of rain outside. It tapped at the window pane, soft and lulling _plit-plit-plat_ of droplets. A small gust of wind entered the room through the window; Trevor gathered Sypha closer to keep her warm, kissing the top of her head.

*******

Outside of their door, a big white wolf run effortlessly up the stairs and sniffed for a while, as if searching for something. After a while of hesitation, it made two circles in place and slid on the stone floor. The wolf curled in a ball and covered his muzzle with its tail; after a while, a steady rise and fall of breath coming from the lean ribcage indicated that it fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it. Now let's let them sleep. :))  
> And once again. If you could comment on the 3rd person omniscient narrator I use - is it ok? Is it confusing? Are the P.O.V. too distracting? Please give me some feedback so I can improve.  
> Stay well ;)


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